Open Air Temple Arrival Thread

[Swerve]

The first thing of which Swerve becomes aware is that it feels like someone has pumped sludge through his fuel lines. Everything seems sluggish, even his processor. He groans and mutters a curse or two, willing his systems back up to speed, grumbling when they don't respond as quickly as he'd like.

"When I get my hands on the–" He stops short, tries to shake himself, finds he can't. His windshield scrapes against a hard surface and something feels even more off. It takes him a moment to register why: he's upside down. How the fraggin'–?! Oh, someone's hitting the scrap heap for this. It takes Swerve a split-second to focus and engage his transformation, which flips him into robot mode and off his back quickly enough that his gyrostabilisers have to play catch-up and his visual feed momentarily swims. He's now aware of a few other things: he doesn't hear any running engines – just some warbley high-pitched racket – and it's bright. Too slagging bright. Hadn't it been nightfall? Has he been offline that long?

Scowling, Swerve rises to a vertical orientation, reaching for his gun. He isn't very impressed with his surroundings.

This sure as smelt isn't Velocitron. There's a criminal lack of clear roadway, for one. For another, he decides, this much green should be some sort of insult to the optics. What is this mess, anyway? He bats irritably at a vine dangling down near his head and steps away from the arch on which it grows, turning.

The sight of another Transformer sprawled on the ground hits Swerve almost as hard as Crumplezone. He recoils reflexively, slamming into one of the arches and bringing his gun to bear, then stares gape-mouthed. The other mech is huge compared to him, even larger than his first body – slag, bigger than Crumplezone – blocky and massive, done up all in dull greys and blacks, silicate-panelled chest gaping open and missing some large component, or so it seems. Why, Swerve can't guess; it's a bizarre sight even with the rest of the weird scenery. No, what really strikes him once the shock passes is that the larger mech looks like he's been through the ugliest part of the circuit and come out next to last; scorched, banged up, dented, a big, ugly hole punched into his midsection.

"…Hey," Swerve tries and sounds too tentative for his liking. He repeats himself, louder and more firmly. "Hey, pal. You still functioning?" No response; the larger mech remains silent and still. Swerve warily approaches him, glancing to all sides in case of a trap – though this would easily be the most stupid trap he's ever seen. The larger mech needs heavy repair work, he can tell that. "You hear me?" demands the small racer, giving one bulky forearm a solid shake with his free hand. The metal is cold under his touch and the big mech still doesn't react. There isn't even the slightest flicker of his darkened optics. Swerve realises with an icy jolt he knows this all too well. This mech's dead.

Swerve is on his feet and a good five lengths away from the body even before he can process the motion commands. This whole situation was just stupid before, but now he feels disgusted with it, too. Just what happened? Why'd he wake up next to a husk? And who left them there? He paces back and forth for a few moments, gaze repeatedly, involuntarily darting back to the body, before he starts toward the treeline, wanting some distance; he can feel his oil starting to simmer. This has to be the dumbest, sickest prank ever and he'll make sure the culprit knows in excruciating detail just what he thinks of this little stunt.

//Hey!// Slag, he'd nearly forgotten he still has a radio. //HEY! Alright, what gives? Whose bright idea is this scrap and where's he hidin' so I can give him a fist in the face?!//

[Arcee]

It's an uncomfortable feeling, coming back on-line and not knowing where you are, and Arcee responds to the situation by pulling her gun, hopping to her feet just a little too hastily and nearly falling flat on her face.

"What on Earth...?" she asks quietly, even as it becomes quite clear that she's not on Earth.

What had happened? Where were Kup, Springer, and the others? She'd even take Hot Rod right now. With Optimus Prime gone, even with Megatron likely joining him in death, the universe suddenly seemed a much darker place. It was not a place she wanted to be alone in.

What happens next, however, snaps her from that line of thinking.

The first is a transmission on an Autobot frequency. It's not a voice she recognizes, but that doesn't necessarily mean anything.

She's about to make a response when the second thing happens, and that's her spotting the body sprawled across the ground.

It can't be...

It just can't be.

Why... why would it...

Who would do this? Why would Optimus's body be here?

Anger at the apparent desecration of her deceased leader overrides everything else and she levels her weapon in the direction of the only other figure around.

"What did you do to him?" she demands.

[Swerve]

Swerve doesn't react as quickly to the movement, to the sound, as he thinks he should. Maybe he's still coming back up to speed. Whatever the case, he's staring down a femme – an angry-looking femme – with a gun. He flexes his grip on his own weapon and glares back.

"Do?" he barks, temper flaring at her assumption. "The frag d'you think I am, anyway? I didn't do anything to him!" He gestures wildly with his free hand, pointing to the husk, to the femme, as his voice rises. "You got a lotta nerve! Just who're you?"

[Arcee]

It's a tense moment and for a moment, Arcee contemplates lowering her weapon. Maybe she did jump the gun here, but... Alone, in a strange place, with another Transformer and Optimus's corpse... It's not exactly a complicated piece of arthimatic.

And yet... the voice matches the one she heard over the Autobot communication frequency. That's one strike against her theory.

One strike for, one strike against. Breaking even then.

Someone has to make the first move. And if it had been anyone else, if if it had been Hot Rod or Springer who'd drawn their weapon in circumstances like this, she'd have given them an audio-full for being an idiot.

She lowers her pistol. "I'm Arcee, currently attatched to Autobot City."

[Swerve]

"…Autobot, huh?" Swerve looks her over. Yup, there's that symbol. He's still wary of letting his guard down entirely. "I never heard of any Autobot City," he adds, suspicious.

He takes a moment or two to decide. She's at least stopped aiming at him. He relaxes, slightly, and sidesteps, removing himself that much further from the husk and a little closer to some cover should Arcee suddenly decide she wanted to open fire after all.

"I'm Swerve," he says grudgingly. He tilts his head toward the husk but makes a point not to look. "I'm guessin' this was a friend of yours?" Suppose I can't blame her too much, then. Maybe. …She still thought I did something to him. Fragging self-righteous, all these Autobots, I swear.

[Arcee]

"This was..." Arcee hesitates, nearly choking over the words. "This was Optimus Prime. He... he was our leader."

Her mind reels with questions. How had he not heard of Autobot City? All the Autobots were now either on Earth--either in Autobot City or the original Autobot Headquarters--or on the two Moon Bases. What kind of Autobot was he anyway? And...

He'd said his name was Swerve. She knew Swerve. His colors were similar, but he clearly wasn't Swerve. Was he lying? Trying to fool her?

And where was his insignia?

[Swerve]

Swerve processes that bit, then blinks, then involuntarily looks at the husk again. He was their leader? Well, slag.

"H-hey," he mumbles, shifting his weight uncomfortably, "knock that off." Waterworks. Primus, he hated that scrap. He can't really decide if he should be annoyed or sympathetic. Not that he's sure he'd feel the same if Override got fragged in a race; he doesn't exactly know her, save by reputation. He wouldn't mind racing her, that's for sure.

He turns around, scanning the area and taking care not to leave his back open too long; it's hard to trust someone who drew on him. Does this Arcee have any other friends? Other Autobots? Swerve figures they'd be full-throttle for tracking down their dead leader. He glances back at her, then scratches at the back of his neck, then looks around again quickly.

"Look…" he starts to say, then stops. This emotional stuff really isn't his thing. "…Uh…" He's got nothing.

[Arcee]

"No... I'll be fine," Arcee says, waving a hand. "Prime wouldn't want anyone moping over him. He'd talk about how we had to go on, fight the battles that still had to be fought."

She knows this, but it doesn't make the loss of the greatest Autobot ever built any harder to bear.

"But it doesn't make any sense for his body to be here... It should still be in Autobot City. We haven't had time build the mausoleum yet..."

[Swerve]

"It doesn't make any sense to be here anyway," Swerve mutters. Fine, forget the sympathy thing. It's never been a strong point of his. "Look, you got any idea where we are? 'Cause I sure as slag don't." And that was an understatement if ever there was one. "Primus, I don't even know you, or him, except for you bein' trigger-happy," he goes on, both annoyed and resigned.

He finally relaxes and lets his weapon hang slack at his side. Things seem cool enough for now, even for being totally lost in some weird place with two Autobots, one dead, and apparently nothing resembling normalcy.

I catch the slagsucker who dumped me here, I'll scrap his aft from the Flats to the canyons.

[Arcee]

"I don't have a clue," Arcee replies. "This doesn't look like any planet I've ever seen."

Not that her experience counts for much. While she's quite well aware of the existance of other planets and other lifeforms, she's really only been on Earth and Cybertron.

"And for what it's worth... I'm sorry I drew on you."

[Swerve]

"Doesn't look a slagging thing like Velocitron, either. …And forget about it." Swerve admits, if only to himself, that it isn't as if she actually fired. It could've been uglier. He then shrugs off that line of thought and paces back and forth for a few seconds.

The situation looks less and less great the more he thinks about it. And the more he thinks about it, the less he wants to think about it. He'd rather be trying to find a way back. Or at least to someplace other than here.

"…I'm gonna see if there's some kind of road outta here," he announces and starts for the treeline to begin his search.

[Arcee]

Velocitrion? She thinks it's a strange name for a planet, but she's not one to judge. And Transformers did supposedly colonize other worlds during various periods between Great Wars...

"I'll come with you," she says.

No sense in staying here. Maybe she could find Blurr or Kup or Blaster or someone...

[Swerve]

Swerve pauses at that rejoinder, stiffens, then heaves a sigh.

"Knock yourself out," he mumbles. He'd thought maybe to just give her a while and get herself straightened out, but if she'd rather up and move, that's fine by him, too. Maybe even better. Less time wasted wallowing around and moping.

He trundles briskly across the unpaved terrain, free arm swinging a little more vigourously than probably needed, gun firmly at his side. The racket from behind the treeline is like nothing he's ever heard, and he leaves some clearance between it and himself as he tracks along the perimeter, watching for a break in the green mess. Something that looks like a road. Even a dirt track. Something solid into which he can dig his tires and leave this place far behind.

[Arcee]

Arcee follows Swerve, keeping an eye of her own on the treeline and surrounding terrain as well.

None of this added up. The only thing in the universe--other than a spaceship, of course--that could transport people across vast distances like this was the Decepticon Spacebridge, and that required a dedicated reciever. And it was only good for going between Earth and Cybertron.

Unless of course there was some kind of accident. That had happened to Optimus and several others once... But she'd been in Autobot City, nowhere near that.

"I think I'll try and radio again..." she says, before switching on her communicator.

//This is Arcee. Anyone out there? Ultra Magnus? Kup? ...Hot Rod?//

[Swerve]

None of the names rings a bell. Swerve puts that out of mind, deciding there must be plenty more Autobots than just the few he's met, and goes back to peering into the foliage. He spots the occasional flash of movement somewhere in the shadows of the canopy, but doesn't bother with paying much more attention than to note it. Some things flitting around, it looks like. Nothing to interest him.

It's just over halfway around the perimeter when he spots what looks like large stones, partially overgrown by the grass, leading into the trees.

"I think I got something!" he announces and bolts to follow the path, apprehension about the forest forgotten. He eagerly shoves aside shrubs and low-hanging branches for a clearer look.

It is some sort of overgrown path. Under the cover of the forest, there's less grass concealing the stones, which are rectangular and look pretty smooth. They remind him vaguely of the prefab pads the maintenance drones use to repair damaged track sections. They're spaced too far apart to make a proper road, which almost disappoints him. Still better than nothing. They go on for a decent distance before the path curved and he loses track of it among the shrubbery and tree trunks.

"Whaddaya think?" he finds himself asking, glancing over one shoulder at Arcee. He promptly wonders what the slag possessed him to bother, makes a chagrined face, and looks aside.