Arrival: Counterpunch in Plains

[Counterpunch]

Counterpunch's optics come online. Moments later, he's standing, weapon out, and scanning the vast field of over-long grass suspiciously.

Mmm. Not Charr, he thinks.

Did someone find him out and dump him off here? But if they did find him out, wouldn't they just kill him instead?

Unless, of course, they're playing with him. Or testing him in some way.

He straightens, but his optics narrow. He looks upward and considers flying - yes, he has robot mode flight - and decides against that for the time being. Too easily spotted. Then he kneels and examines the area.

Though muted by days, there are more signs of traffic around here. The beginnings of tracks where too much driving have started to kill the grass, and the spot where he arrived... positively flattened.

What is this?

Counterpunch transforms into car mode, and drives, as near as he could tell, in the direction the vehicles that had been here previously had driven. It's rough going at first, but after a good while he reaches a road. A metal road.

He transforms once more, kneels to examine the road, and sighs. On this surface, no real way to tell which direction anyone went.

Dare he risk his radio?

After several minutes consideration, he decides on it. The answers will let him know whether to stay in contact, or go in hiding.

Counterpunch transmits on the only recent faction frequency he has access to.

//Anyone out there? Name's Counterpunch.//

[Counterpunch]

Counterpunch tilts his head over the radio frequency traffic, and snorts. Lovely. He refrains from answering Starscream's question about semi-life, rather regretting what he has said so far, and lets the others cover it. Besides, he's still got to work out what to do next.

He begins walking up and down the road, carefully examining the grass alongside the road. He notes multiple blades torn from where the grass would normally hang over the road, as if by the passage of vehicles. The crushed, dead grass is fresher going Northwest.

Counterpunch now considers his options. He can turn his back on the Decepticons now, and instead go tracking his real faction, the Autobots. What point would that serve? He doesn't have anything useful to bring them - well, except for the frequency being used by the Decepticons, a frequency that would be changed the moment it was discovered compromised. Certainly, this is a bizarre new situation, but if he can't adapt quickly to the bizarre, he has no business in this job.

The spy straightens, choice made, transforms, and starts driving Northwest. He's got a 50/50 chance of being right at this point, and perhaps by the time another decision need be made, he'll have more information.

[Jetstorm (BM)]

Peewwwooooom... The sound of a small, compact but powerful engine blasting across the skies. A tiny blue jet makes its way up to transform and stare at a rather large cloud formation, and Jetstorm seems to be... Talking to it from a distance. He looks down, elegantly tilting his head as he scans the ground below. Ah yes, a road.

"Ground bound, mmh, I feel bad for him. Ah well, some are only created that way and cannot help it..." Jetstorm said as he clapped his hands together and then tucked his arms to his side and descended to fly just about 20 feet above the road itself at a slow (for him) pace to find this car he was instructed to have.

Good thing he got drunk on power earlier, as he has enough to spare for a wonderful flight. Hopefully he spots the other along his way, as he's heading in the opposite direction (SE), and should be moving slow enough to be yelled at if need be.

[Counterpunch]

'Slender blue miniaturized Cybertronian jet.' Okaaaaay. Tetrajet, or something else? Well, tetrajets aren't really all that slender. Counterpunch resolves to simply keep an eye out for a small blue aircraft.

And he spots one, flying towards him along the road. Interesting! So he had been going in the correct direction after all. The blue car swerves to a stop as he sees the approaching craft, then transforms, although he does not draw his weapon. Still, he looks up suspiciously towards the thing, and, as soon as the little jet is in voice range, calls out, "Jetstorm?"

Decepticon welcome wagons are just getting weirder and weirder these days.

[Jetstorm (BM)]

"What up? Oh," Jetstorm halts in the air, waving a hand down at Counterpunch and then darts down to his level and bows with a flourish. "I assume you're Counterpunch, hm?" he says, looking him over. If Counterpunch thought he was odd, then Jetstorm though he was just as odd. Interesting indeed, he was still getting accustomed to larger Transformers.

"Welcome to some Primus-forsaken planet where we're all apparently getting dumped for no reason. And oh, I would have much preferred to land here rather than the mines that I ended up in. Such a dreadful place," Jetstorm explained what he knew, which, although wasn't much, still gave an outline to this place.

"I'm assuming you want to go back and see the others? Maybe you'll find somebody you know."

[Counterpunch]

Counterpunch's optics, at least, what can be seen of them through the slit that makes up the only significant feature of his dark face, narrow and he instinctively steps back when Jetstorm darts towards him. His right hand twitches slightly, but there's no obvious insult implied in Jetstorm's speech or his surveyance of him. In fact, he looks back carefully himself.

"I'm assuming you want to go back and see the others? Maybe you'll find somebody you know."

"Very likely, I expect," Counterpunch replies softly in a voice settled somewhere between a snarl and a hiss. After all, he knows Dead End.

Still, the car-former does not transform just yet, and instead continues to study Jetstorm a moment longer. Finally he asks, gesturing to one of the strange little rank-marks, "Are these your faction sigils?" He doesn't ask about this 'Primus' yet, although notes that Jetstorm uses the term in the same manner a Terran might use the phrase 'God-forsaken.' Interesting.

[Jetstorm (BM)]

"More likely than I," he mutters half to himself as he sighs and leans back in the air. When the small symbols on his body are pointed out, he looks down, almost as if he has to check them himself.

"These are a symbol of my General status from where I'm from. Aero General of Lord Megatron's Armies. It is Cybertron, but a very different one than you may know. My, I may have to explain it's history that I know to the group so I don't have to repeat myself!"

Although he does like to talk.

He scritches a claw across the the marking on the back of his left hand, before shrugging and then looking back down at Counterpunch. "I do hope you find somebody that you know though. And who knows, maybe I'll stop being alone and one of my comrades in arms will come join..."

[Counterpunch]

Counterpunch again fails to mention the fact that he already knows that he knows someone here. Why give away more than he has to?

"You don't know anyone here at all, then?" the spy asks, attempting to encourage Jetstorm to continue speaking. Even so, he transforms back into vehicular mode, indicating that it's time to travel while they talk. Of course, Counterpunch's best speed on the ground is likely to seem excruciatingly slow to Jetstorm, but sometimes them's the breaks.

[Jetstorm (BM)]

"Nobody at all, not a fellow Vehicon; Oh that's what my faction is called; or a Maximal in sight. Heh. I am happy I don't have to fight any annoying, pathetic excuses for robots anyway. Although I miss my fellow generals," Jetstorm floats along, also transforming and glancing over at Counterpunch. This fellow isn't half bad, at least he's a car. Take away two wheels and he'd probably be just like Thrust. Same broody nature it seemed.

"... Except that spider that seemed to have followed me here. Ugh. At least it isn't bothering me like a bad virus. At least it hasn't recognized me," the small jet turns a lazy loop in the air, trying to slow himself down in order to not go ahead from the car on the ground.

[Counterpunch]

The blue car takes off. If this little jet-thing is even a fraction as fast as it looks, it'll have no problem at all keeping up with Counterpunch's top speed. Because of the travel, however, and the fact that they must travel in different mediums, he across the ground, Jetstorm through the air, the Spy switches to short ranged radio, putting enough power into it to reach the Vehicon, and no more.

//Spider?// he asks. //Is he one of your fellow generals?// It would be a logical assumption. First Jetstorm mentioned Vehicons, then he mentioned Maximals, then he mentioned generals, then he mentioned spiders. Still, the conversation touches on so many different subjects that he'd like to clear things up, and besides, it should, hopefully, get Jetstorm talking more.

Counterpunch considers that he may be spending a lot of time with Jetstorm. How much important information he has is likely to be limited, but he does seem to enjoy the sound of his own voice, and that, in and of itself, can be useful.

While Counterpunch drives, he also thinks about Starscream's words over the Decepticon frequencies. Skyfire. Hmph. He should have known that turncoat still retained some Decepticon loyalties. For a moment, a jet of white-hot fury wells up inside him and Counterpunch pushes his speed to its limit before slowing down again. Oh please, please, Skyfire. Give me an excuse to pound your traitorous face in! I'll happily accept whatever consequences Starscream dishes out for that! he thinks angrily. Luckily, the trip gives him time to reconsider, though. Why would Starscream want them to keep their violent tendencies 'under wraps'? And what was that about 'meant to be'? Is Skyfire, as of yet, uncertain about his treachery? Or does this have to do with that temporal nonsense Dead End spoke of?

Certainly a situation to keep an optic on.

[Jetstorm (BM)]

Back with the speed! It may not have been as fast as possible, but that's ok!

// ... No. NO IT IS NOT!!!// Jetstorm drops into a bit of a Thrust-type moody bit, pouting. //It thinks it's related to me or something and won't stop. I don't know. I hate it.// He dips a bit and then his engines rumble in the form of displeased growl. Not a happy Jetstorm. He stares up at the skies, before resuming his little happy chat.

//No, the spider is a Maximal, and a half organic. That's what all Maximals are. And they want to change Cybertron into a horrid half technological, half organic hellish place. Oh woe and behold, what a terrible fate for our wonderful planet. //

[Counterpunch]

Hmmm. Jetstorm doesn't provide a name. And he keeps referring to the spider as 'it.' On the other hand, just how many half-organic spiders can this world have?

Well, for all Counterpunch knows, plenty.

//Sounds wretched,// Counterpunch snarls in agreement. Not that Punch has anything in particular against organics - it's Autobot duty to protect those who did not willingly involve themselves in the war, after all - but Counterpunch can't ever seem to muster much enthusiasm for the squishy little things, and the idea of turning Cybertron half organic... ugh.

//So you've seen the spider-thing with the Autobots, yes? Protecting the pathetic organics has always been a favorite pastime of theirs. Do you know who else the Autobots have with them?//

Counterpunch is making assumptions. He could be making completely wrong assumptions, but sometimes you get more information by having your statements corrected than you would in the asking of a question.

[Jetstorm (BM)]

// Naw man, naw man, it was over here! Horrid thing. It was trying to act like one of us. I don't know what happened before I came here, so anything could have happened. That's the thing... // Jetstorm dips his wing to the side, casting a forlorn gaze into the distance. //My fellow generals and I... After we got over our differences, things were different and it was fun to attack them. My. It seems that I miss home... More than I thought.//

If a jet could sigh, he would.

[Counterpunch]

//Ugh. Unusual that we'd harbor such a one.// But then, Jetstorm himself was very unusual. //I'll keep an optic out for it.//

Another spy, perhaps? Or does Jetstorm has his facts mixed up? Either way, a situation to watch.

By now, the two are well into the foothills, and coming up on the mountains. It won't be long before they've made it back to the village. Counterpunch starts running silent for the moment, waiting to see if the jet-thing has the urge to fill up the silence, and what he decides to fill it with. If that doesn't work, he'll see about encouraging chatter.

[Jetstorm (BM)]

What a quaint view of the mountains. Jetstorm raises his nose just a bit to stare up at the snow-frosted peaks and then ponders... Well what's that white stuff?

Oooh now Counterpunch is just being weird and quiet. Must fix that. //Say, what is that? The stuff on top of those large formations? Is it like, some sort of armor for it?// Yes, Jetstorm, let us start with asking questions a child might ask. Make yourself seem 'smart'.