robothell | What the hecky happened

Entry tags:

optimus prime | luckyfaceplate

What the hecky happened

Who: Optimus and YOU!
Where: Anywhere from Red Alert's Clinic to wandering around
When: Before Sentinel and Megatron/Rodimus log
What: Optimus finding out just what went down while he was gone from various people, or if they need to talk to him about anything.
Warnings: None

The trip wasn't a complete loss, that's for sure. Optimus has somehow contacted the planet, and while it was rather vague, he found out quite a bit about their mission here. Way more than he would have just grasping at proverbial straws. The objective, however, wouldn't be easy. In its own way, Cybertron had told him that they had to work together, that they had to get along.

You can already see what's wrong with this equation, and to be honest, it left Optimus feeling a little doubtful on his return.

Speaking of his return. That's a thing that happened, and right now he's trying to gather his bearings for being gone for....oh...a week at most.

You can find him all over, scouting around for anyone who might be around to ask for information. But if you need him first--well...he stands out, at least.

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Slipstream has no idea what's going on, who Optimus is, or if she has any information of use for him, but she does squint at him from her considerable height. He looks weirdly familiar-- like a blockier version of that little Autobot truck fellow-- but red is such a common color for his sort.

Should she approach him? She has no idea! No one else has seemed too bothered by her, which is somewhere between "nice" and "kind of annoying" (she would prefer to be imposing, honestly). Still...

Nothing ventured, nothing gained, as the Humans would say, and she went straight towards him after examining him for a few seconds more.

"You look like an Autobot I once shot at," she introduces herself, because if there's one thing she's known for it's her excellent social skills and grace.

Optimus hears her approach, and as he's turning his head, his eyes widen at the...'recognition'. Well, Slipstream, you've certainly caught him off guard with that one. In fact, he's not sure how to respond to that. A compliment? Shooting people isn't a compliment, Optimus. Think.

"I'm not sure how I feel about that."

Good answer.

But he'll try to be cordial anyway. "I am Optimus Prime, if that is able to clear up any confusion."

Catching someone else off guard is a little fun, after all the off-guarded-ness she's been caught up in, and she barks a laugh at his expression. It's not a pleasant laugh, but it's also not too cruel, and she sets her servos on her hips, regarding him with curiosity. "Now, the funny thing is," she tells him, "I'm pretty sure he had that name, too, but he definitely wasn't you. Isn't that weird?"

The voice, the shape of his stance, his demeanor-- yeah, this was a different person, she was certain, as different from the Optimus she'd run across as she was from her brothers.

Slipstream isn't a great hand at 'cordial', but she does reply to his introduction with a relatively friendly, "Name's Slipstream. You from this place?" She waves a servo, indicating the city, or maybe this Cybertron, or maybe any Cybertron; she's from none of them, so the topic is of interest.

He can't help but become a bit more on guard at the laugh, although her faction symbol isn't exactly doing her any favors either. Until SHE makes any movements, though, he'll keep his ground.

"Surprisingly, it's not the first time it's happened. At least...not here." His voice is low, but even, looking out at the landscape. "You would be surprised at just how many different versions of one person there can be.

Optimus? He's met Megatron three times. And there's apparently a fourth running around.

NOW THAT. is weird.

"I am not. I am from Cybertron, but this is certainly not mine. ...And I take it...not yours either."

"... I'm surprised that there can be different versions of people here," she tells him, her smile fading a bit as the worst-case scenario passes through her head. Gaggles and gaggles of her brother, all arguing/flattering/cringing together, a dozen Starscreams in the center of it all--

She shivers in genuine horror at the thought, head ducked for a moment, then shrugs it off. "That's good to know, I suppose," she says, "and explains why you're so... familiar." As for the other thing: "And I wouldn't know. I've never seen Cybertron before I was here."

She does, theoretically, have memories of the planet, but they're eons old and not actually hers, so she doesn't count them.

"It's a surprise to me too, honestly," he says airily, as if finding that out certainly didn't make things easier on him. Don't worry, Slipstream, he thought of the millions-of-Starscreams thing too. It's definitely somewhere on his top ten list of things that absolutely suck.

The shiver gets an 'eyebrow' perk out of him, but at least for the moment she doesn't seem like a threat. More like...two Cybertronians stuck in the same situation. He could work with that.

"This is your first time on Cybertron?" Those eyes widen, looking out at the landscape a moment, before they sadden slightly.

"A shame you have to see it in this state."

She ignores the brow-quirking; if he wants to hear that horrifying idea, he can ask. "Yeah, everything I know about the place I know second-servo." She looks around, too. "What a scrap-blasted place to fight over, isn't it? I'd rather be back on Earth."

Ah, Earth, wonderful Earth, Earth of laying low and not bothering people and not being bothered... though she supposes the company here isn't that bad.

"You ever been to Earth before?" she asks him, a little curious.

"It's a shadow of it's former self, Slipstream." He can't help but continue to gaze, ultimate sadness washed over those eyes. "The cities used to glow, and at night...radiant didn't even begin to describe it. Life flowed in every part of this world..."

His eyes cast down at the dirt below them.

But at her question, he nods, finally taking the time to catch her gaze. "I have. In the fight against Decepticons."

Hopeeeeffully that's not too awkward.

Man, how... dramatic. She almost wants to heckle him for it, but something about how serious he is stops her.

Instead, she looks again, trying to imagine it full of life, full of brightness... "If I ever was going to see it, it wasn't going to be like that," she tells him, a little more subdued. No Decepticon would have been allowed on Cybertron without killing their way to the surface, after all. "At least it's peaceful?"

Considering that she opened the conversation by telling him he looked like someone she had shot, being told he'd been fighting Decepticons wasn't even close to the most awkward this conversation could have been. Instead, Slipstream nods and tells him, "Can't blame you for fighting them. Bunch of jerks, aren't they?"

It's okay Slipstream, you wouldn't be the first to. Not that he'd take notice anyway. Sometimes he was often lost in his own thoughts about what could have been. About what their world used to be. "Mmm, that it is. And brimming with a new hope, at least here."

Something about what she says pings him, though, and his next question comes out rather softly.

"You're not like them, are you."

Her gaze turns to him, startled, and she opens her mouth to speak, then pauses. Not like them? She's as branded as any of them, literally created already filling the role--

But not by her own choice, and not by her own loyalty. She wasn't sure she had loyalty, without a source to draw it from.

"I know what I'm not," she tells him, after an awkward silence. "No liar am I, or egomaniac, or coward, or boot-licker. What remains after that..." She shrugs, slowly, a contemplative frown curling her mouth downwards.

What does remain after that?

"I am treacherous," she tells him, with open clarity, "and prefer life to death; anything else is the... the dregs of personality I was left with when all the things I'm not were taken from the cup. And it wasn't a very deep cup!" She laughs, a bit bitterly, but mostly at herself and her creator. "I don't know if that makes me like or unlike any other Decepticon."

And that's just what he realizes. After four million years of fighting them, you noticed certain things. The way a good cause had been twisted by corruption, corruption it claimed to be fighting against.

A brand can categorize you, certainly. But was that truly Slipstream's choice? Maybe. But it would have to come through in her actions. Ones he wasn't seeing just yet.

"It makes you Cybertronian."

He gestures out to the wasteland, finally turning to look at her.

"This is Cybertron. And for now, it is what we make of it. I hope you do the same with yourself, with this chance. I can try to reason with you to join my side, but all I have are words and promises I'm not sure I can keep. But what I can show you is your choice. And more importantly....

That you have one at all."

There it was, that something, that thing that kept her from taking his words and throwing them back at him with snark and anger-- he might have shared the name of the little construction bot she'd shot at in the skies above Detroit, but he had such infinitely greater presence that it made her feel ridiculous comparing them at all.

If she had been possessed of lungs, her breath might have caught. What power, to have the unaware earnestness to make people believe the things you say! To turn people's eyes and processors to you and your words, and to have those people consider the words wisdom!

She stares at him, fascinated, mind filled with possibilities.

"I don't know why 'your side' would want a bot like me," Slipstream murmurs, more statement than argument. "But I suppose being a Cybertronian wouldn't be so bad."

While Optimus would be unaware of such a power, his eyes cast to her, curious of the silence that it seems to have casted over the conversation. Had he pushed too far? Had his ambition and arrogance hurt or shoved her in a direction that would cause indifference? He'd only said what was right, what was in his spark.

But when she answers, his can't help but smile sadly under that faceplate, only shown in his eyes, as tired and worn as his wheels.

"Because everyone deserves their own path. Whether it be a second chance or their first. And..."

While his shoulders straighten, he can't help but let a soft vent escape--something like a sigh. "Being Cybertronian is the best choice you could make for yourself. Autobots, while holding ideals, are just as broken and damaged as Decepticons. You have a chance to live without that."

Pff, arrogance? Optimus, have you met the Decepticons? Any arrogance you might have is so low-key that it might as well not exist, in Slipstream's opinion.

"I guess I can try it out," she says, but her face is thoughtful, looking down at Optimus. An Autobot, willing to admit his own system was broken, willing to forgive Decepticons and try and point them down a peaceful way of life?

What an uncommon sort of fellow.

Slowly, she lets a tiny smile break across her face, and asks Optimus, "You're really something, aren't you? I tell you outright I'm treacherous, and you tell me to take any path I want! Are you sure you don't have a few fried connections?"

Hey, he's a walking guilt machine. You know how Primes ar--oh wait....

"That's all I ask," He knows that the Autobots weren't perfect. He'd been at the forefront of all the shady tactics used in the war, and while some proclaim them heroes, after the war they're just symbols of a time of pain. A time of killing. Looking past that means looking past Decepticons too.

After all, if freedom was the right of all sentient beings, then that includes the ones that were misguided.

At the compliment, his ears flick slightly, eyes straying away for a moment. "I've been told that before. So many times that I figure, by now, if I had any fried connections, I'd have stopped functioning eons ago."

There's a shrug, as he holds a hand out, a little amused that this time he has to be the one holding it up, instead of down. "Treachery often comes from being boxed into a corner. Take away the box, and there is no need for such hostility. That. That is my belief."

She knows just as well that the Decepticons are imperfect, too. It's almost like movements are made of people and people can be slaggin' motherglitchers!

Laughing quietly at his admission of being called crazy before, Slipstream looks at what's being offered up to her, red eyes bright as suns. "I have to admit, I'm not sure how to stab a lack of expectations in the back," she agrees, and takes his sturdy hand in her clawed grasp. "Except insisting I be let back into the box, maybe-- but who wants walls?"

He closes his hand around hers, giving a nice firm handshake in return. Cybertron wanted them to cooperate, and Slipstream may not have known it, but she's given Optimus more hope than any message could. It's hard not to show a little glint in his eyes.

"I have never had wings but...I've yet to know of a flier who enjoyed being contained."

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What the hecky happened

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my feelings are exploding i want them to be friends so much

in time grasshopper