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| - [[Category:I Slept Through The Apocalypse]] [[Category:I Slept Through The Apocalypse]] These bits of RP are from the 'dead time' on Cybertron, as the Autobots and or Decepticon forces start to get themselves back up. They may be out of order and incomplete. These are the moments that things started working again...] Exhaust and dust are kicked up as the Autobot team, unofficially known as the 'Dungeon Crawlers' for some nebulous reason. The drive is long, and expected to take several hours before the destination is reached. At first Imager wouldn't shut up, just prattling on, but her mood changed when the party entered Decepticon held territory...for whatever that meant now. Still at least two hours out from the location, She pipes up <> Datsun 280ZX Turbo Rally Car #38 has been following Imager as part of the Dungeon Crawler team and doesn't care so much that she talked and talked for better then halfyway on their trip. He's a good listener so thats what he does. But he to gets more alert as they enter Decepticon territory but it seems just as dead here as it is in Autobot areas too. <> Smokescreen says in reply to Imager's question. He slows up to transformer when she does. The hovercraft shudders, then folds in half. Imager stands up from around it, her ramplates becoming her pauldrons as the last step. <> The hovercraft tips its solar array forward, forming a holocasing for the supply, then with a beam of power from her Helios Array, fills up one block. She transforms immediately afterwards, stomping her feet as she steps forward. Her optics are on the sky. "Weird, ain't it?" She gestures to the sky, "Not a Con in the sky...that we can see. Its just us so far..." The words hang heavy... Datsun 280ZX Turbo Rally Car #38 transforms into his Smokescreen mode. Smokescreen assumes his root mode and takes the cube. He looks up at the sky and nods then takes a sip of his energon. "I'm still trying to figure out just what could have taken so many on both sides. And why some of us remain. Have you come up with anything?" Imager shakes her head, "Nah. I mean, something happened, we get that, but I don't see any...I dunno, patterns, or anything." The big Femme is many things, and she can hold her own in a fight, or so she can claim, but the situation is disconcerting her. She stares at the blank sky for a while as Smokescreen refuels. She looks back after a moment, "What if they're dead?" Smokescreen puases his cube when she says that and looks at her. "Don't think that, Imager. They can't be dead-- I mean seriously. Do you have any idea what kind of force it would take to kill all the Transformers? We are not exactly a weak species ya know. No... no ones dead, they can't be. It's just where are they that is the problem. And why havn't they tried to escape?" Imager turns aside, perhaps in embarassment or disgust. "Feh. I dunno, mech. We're always inventing black hole guns, and warp cannons, big stuff. Dangerous stuff. The planet's in danger every other year, and we're losin a lot more than we're buildin." She turns her head, her pauldron blocking her faceplate, save for her blue eyes. "Look me in the optics, and tell me that we couldn't have done something like this. Either side.0]" Smokescreen takes the last of his energon and looks her dead in the optics. "You know slagging well that I can't say we might not have had anything to do with this. But it seems to me that if some of us are responsible for it, there should be some sort of evidence somewheres -- something." Combat: Imager compares her Courage to Smokescreen's Courage: Success! Imager keeps her gaze level, "I don't know what to think." She lets out some exhaust in a sigh then returns to keeping her optics peeled. She actually sits on a big bench that happened to be along the trail. Without specifically talking to Smokescreen, she says "I was uh...stuck in a chasm for a thousand years or somethin... Team was tryin to make this big jump, and they were all these lil' fast hovercars. Futura edition, ya know. And then there's me, and I didn't make this jump, ya see. and I got stuck. Couldn't transform for nothin. Not much to do...little light, ventually the ole recharging wore out and I went into stasis. Sorta having flashbacks to all that. that uh...isolation." Perhaps its an apology for her acting up. perhaps not. Smokescreen looks at her for a moment then sits down next to her. "Hey." he says quietly. "It's ok. Maybe I can see a little bit what you mean -- this situation reminding you of that other one. But you're not alone. I'm here, Punch is around somewhere. Smeg, we even have Blot and Dirge! Even they are better then being alone." he smiles a bit. "Well as long as you stay upwind of Blot that is." Imager supinates her hands, "There's just a lot of questions. I mean, if they did all...you know, why not us? You were askin that too. And lets say that this is the case, that means that we're all that's left. At least here on Cybertron, maybe some deep-spacers out there perhaps, but does this mean the war's over? That means its up to us to do treaties and make big decisions. Repopulate. Lead." "Yea, pretty much." Smokescreen says, "But that is pretty much jumping to conclusions that may not be needed. I think first we need to get to the bottom of all this and figure out what happened one way or another." he paues as a thought comes to mind suddenly. "What if.. what if the few that are left were left on puspose to figure all this out? What if this is some huge game by some aliens that we don't know about?" Imager considers the hypotheticals for a moment, then says flat, "Well, I can't speak for you or Punch, but considering myself, the Wrecker, and those Cons.....I think Cybertron's in great danger." The tension breaks a little with an uneasy laugh even as she tries to keep a straight face. "Well, we've probably delayed too long as it is. If there ARE Cons out here, we had better be in motion before they start somethin they can't handle." She rolls her neck, then sinks down into her hovercraft mode. Smokescreen smiles a bit then gets up and transforms and follows her as they continue on their way. It has been three hours since the so-called 'Dungeon Crawlers' (and nobody actually calls them that, so why do they have the name?), have been in transit. Their objective is the Barren Wastes to the south, all because Imager spotted some vectors on an unused transport that lead there moments before that missing time. Currently, Smokescreen is out in scouting mode, which...is both good and bad, as perhaps the only thing more terrifying right now than finding a Decepticon...is finding nothing. For a bit, Imager was all chatty, until the team passed into Con Country, and now only the dust of the road is signalling any nearby Cybertronians, that the Autobots were in motion. After some clever movements and subspace application Punch becomes a Fiero. Anything further is need to know. If applicable you'll be briefed accordingly. Punch is calm, calmer that you'd expect considering. That's because he's not in freefall. He's got a grasp at the end of the very frayed strings at the very end of the metaphorical rope. That makes a difference. All the difference in the world. <> Punch transmits, just to be sure. Geography looks different at ground level. <> The hovercraft figured that maybe Punch *was* a bit on edge, and decided to throw a bit more conversation out there, <> <> Punch says. He's cool, calm and collected as he talks <> Correcting around a wicked looking shard spearing out the ground he continues, <> Heavy Hovercraft grumbles to herself, <> The road winds on as the party moves southward to where the land is still barren, even after Cybertron's reformat. Mostly low hills and devoid of Energon, low on precious metals and wildlife...the Barren Wastes are pretty much just that, no strategic value to anyone, even after all these eons. Over the channel Punch can be heard chuckling. <> Punch attaches a blip indicating where the convoy can pull over to stop. The hovercraft shudders, then folds in half. Imager stands up from around it, her ramplates becoming her pauldrons as the last step. The request was weird and a little annoying from the pencil pusher. Punch was just a low-level analysis liason. He wasn't even a courier, he just...well...he did something with talking to people. Imager pondered the thought as she altmoded back into her root form, stepping forward to where Punch awaited. A scowl crosses her faceplate, "Mech, nothin to worry about? You had better have like...I dunno, a signed apology from ole Roddo givin a thumbs up, declaring 'Everything is fine'...dated today." She puts a hand on her hip idly, "Or somethin." Pulling up and transforming Punch says to Imager with an award-winning smile, "I can't do exactly that but I can certainly do something as good, maybe better." Checking everywhere his sensors can stretch to, then checking again, then once more to be sure Punch says, "It'll probably not come as a shock that I'm not just a Data Collator. It's just a cover for the Decepticons so I can operate on a variety of assignments." Nodding to prevent any hint of his thoughts on it Punch continues, "Deep cover is somewhat of a specialty of mine." Punch takes a deep vent in, then out, before continuing, "In times such as these steps are taken, if possible to protect certain things more important than any one of us. Prime's last action was to charge me with protecting... this." Punch then turns a control on his chest. It splits vertically, then a secondary blast screen lifts. Then there is light. The multicolored light that can only come from one thing. The Autobot Matrix of Leadership Removing it for a moment Punch concludes "If Prime were dead, I'd know... somehow. The very fact he was able to get the matrix to me is proof enough that, although unprecedented, this is not an insurmountable problem. Questions?" And the Femme falls on her aftplate in shock. With a loud metal tremor, she exclaims, pointing. "WHAT THE SMELT? W...WHATTA YA DOING WITH THAT?" She points forward, trying to get to her feet, "Stop playing with that, you're going to break it! W....H...." The entire moment is just confusing and making her anxious, "HOW...HOW'd you get that?!?" Reloading the matrix for safety Punch holds his hands up and says, "Easy there. Prime himself made the arrangement with me to protect the Matrix should something happen. My clearances, training and the fact I could never become a Prime myself make me an ideal temporary guardian. It's one of many scenarios that were set out. Just in case. Point is, if he were dead, he couldn't have got it to me in the first place. If something happened after... I'd know. Which means Prime, like the others, is okay. Just not here. Only thing we need to work out is where they've gone." Punch offers a hand, slowly, carefully, to Imager to help her up before saying "It's difficult but things are under control. Trust me." Imager steps away, trying to process this. Her hands are thrown up into the air as she restrains her incredulousness. After a moment, she turns back around. "He gave it to you....He gave the MATRIX to you...." Disbelief fills her tone, skeptical. She looms over Punch, aggressively pursuing answers, "What did he say, Punch? What did he say about what was happening that was so damn important that he had to safeguard the damn matrix?" She puts a fat finger on Punch's chestplate for emphasis. As Imager places her finger on Punch's chest Punch says, "I hope that isn't loaded." Still smiling he continues, "We've arranged a variety of emergency drills depending on the the situation, rapid progression of the aggressor and other factors. It wasn't a handoff, it was a drop to a pre-arranged location. That tells me Prime had time to get it there, by whatever means, before he disappeared. If he'd had the the time to communicate in person" Punch taps his head "I'd have recorded it and played the footage back to all of you." Punch knows the value of the truth. It has a special power. You can't fake it or make it any other way. You can only tell it and let people look at it every which way until they concede that it is what it is. Maybe Imager missed her dream job in counter-intel, because she's persistent in following that paper trail. "Well, where did he drop it? Did he give coordinates? If we know something about how he delivered it, we can at least KNOW something, Punch." She suddenly snaps, "Stop staring at me with that smug little look!" She considers the implications, "That...that means that Ultra Magnus and Elita One are gone too then....wait, no Elita's still in stasis in Iacon, but yeah Magnus definitely, and prolly Fortress Maximus too. So that means that Bot High Command were all expected to be doing...whatever it was they were doing." It happened twelve sweeps ago..... Mute awoke with a strange headache and in a place he did not remember. The great barren Southron Wastes as he eventually determines. Having been pinned beneath some large pieces of scrap, it was an unusual sight that befell him. Craters, scrap, and parts. It looked like Cybertron. It looked like Cybertron PRE-reformatting. Since the great reformatting that happened not too long ago, the Wastes were just as barren and utterly useless as ever, but they were pristine, almost serene in their quiet isolation. Now, things are broken, dented, slagged, and blasted. Scorch marks, blaster marks, and body parts fill the area, though no bodies themselves were found. What was most startling was that there were no radio chatter. None. on either side. Everything had gone dark on Cybertron. And Mute was the only one left. Alone. One of the most silent Bots on the planet (or universe), Mute is accustomed to his own silence, but it's rather freaky when his radio is silent. If it isn't Blaster playing tunes on the private channel, it's Eject keeping everyone updated on the footbal, ice hockey, baseball, even the wrestling events (Mute does like the later mind you), or Rewind commenting on the latest bit of trivia he's picked up. And so it isn't the different scenery that he finds concerning, afterall things change on Cybertron more than they stay the same lately, nor the body parts and evidence of fighting. It's the silence on the radio. That's just not natural. And so on getting his bearings, Mute begins walking in the direction of HQ, figuring that will be the best spot to find out what the heck is going on. Of course without transport, and no alt-mode that travels all that fast, Mute is left to walk, job and when possible run. But he's also careful as he moves, keeping to what cover he can, conserving energon, and making sure to keep an eye out for anyone else. The wastes are big, Mute is small, and so even keeping up as best a pace as he can, with as minimal rest as he can, this journey is not going to be a quick one. Plus side, he has plenty time to run through numerous possible scenarios. At least till all the options depress him a little too much and he switches to playing reruns of Boston Legal to perk his spirits up. < <> Dust appears in the distance after intercepting that partial transmission. A heavy grey hovercraft rumbles as it glides along Cybertron's surface, kicking up dust and rust in its wake. Normally such a thing would attract Con attention, but well...there haven't been any Cons. Not for a while now. Its just them. Imager isn't exactly on Mute's course, so you can forgive her for not noticing the Cassettebot right away. <> Currently Mute is having a bit of a rest, having just walked a good 12 hours straight. Also he's run out of Boston Legal to rewatch, so he's flicking through Muteflix for a good show to get him through the next few days. He stumbles across Gotham, wonders how the heck that crap got saved, deletes, over-writes those sectors of memory with cute cat videos, and then continues looking through for something to watch. All this while sitting on a pile of rocks that for the cassettebot are fairly high. <> <> The boisterous femme slows to a halt, the hovercraft gliding gently until it just coasts to a standstil position. She transforms and gazes before her. The Wastes have seen conflict. Large spikes of something are all over the area, detrius and shrapnel. Armor plates...but no bodies. "uh...wow. Okay so...." She looks around flabbergasted, "This is a thing..." Deciding his choice of TV show can wait, Mute returns his full attention to the real world, and the delusion of two Autobots he can make out in the distance. He observes them, before rolling backwards to take cover behind the pile of rocks. Not that he has anything against these Autobots, but given he's not seen anyone around, and more importantly not heard anyone on the radio, well he's taking no chances. Time for someone bigger to investigate this. And so Mute surrounds himself with light, which morphs, grows and eventually forms the very realistic image of Prowl. Imager looks over towards Smokescreen. "Whatcha think all these cone things are?" She shifts her weight to approach, barehanded, towards one of the strange cones dotting the landscape. It towers over her, at least four times her size. "Seems to be not-metal, so...organic then?" SUDDENLY PROWL! Imager scrambles backwards, nearly losing her footing at the surprise, "GAAAAHHHH!" She staggers another step, her hand reaching for her shotgun, a hand before her to keep him at bay. Prowl. The bane of anyone who has ever been guided by emotion. The recently not-dead Prowl was suddenly with her. "Prowl? Uh, Prowl! Wow, uh I didn't...you ...." She gestures towards the battlefield. "Where'd...you come..from?" The words are weak as she grimaces, "Uhm, oh! Yeah report...right. There's a few of us...not many, dunno why...answers. Yeah answers, they'd be great right about now since...oh the entire AHC is gone." Smokescreen is looking at the weird cones and about to answer then Prowl happens. The mech frowns a bit and watches Imager stammer. His gaze shifts back toward Prowl as she does. "Why are you out here anyway, Prowl? I figured you'd be at HQ trying to figure out whats going on..." Confirmation that he's dealing with Autobots comes by way of one of them making a radio transmission that the real Prowl would probably chew her out for. Actually he'd probably chew her out for everything possible, awesome chewer outter that Prowl is. Still, Mute is not alone, has company, and damned if he isn't rather happy about this point. hProwl reflects Mutes happiness, as he makes an "Ooooo" noise followed by, "Well, this means I'm in charge. Time to partay!" Anyone thinking this is actually Prowl now, really won't continue to believe this as the Autobot cop starts to dance like he's on Junkion in 2005. And as the bigger hologram dances, so Mute dances out of the light projection, also pulling off some rather nifty moves, and dancing with his own hologram. Apparently someone is very happy. Still rather off-guard, Imager puts a hand to her head in thought, staring bizarrely at Mute's holographic display. "Uhhh..." She looks over at Smokescreen, then back. The dancing is still going on. "Uhhhh...." Imager tromps forward, then shudders as she drops down onto one knee near the Cassettebot. "So uh...you're a happy one. Uhm, good to see you...alive and not in any way binary." She manages a forced laugh as she looks back to Smokescreen, her faceplate shifting into alarm. "Yeah, that's so....you..." She also awkwardly fumbles over not knowing Mute's name... Smokescreen smirks a bit at the text he got and walks up to the cassettecon as well. "It's ok, Imager." he says gently, "You know this is a good thing actually -- finding another survivor." he looks at the small bot. "What is the last thing you remember?"
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