robothell | (no subject)

Who: Ambulon and you!
Where: The city center
When: I think now? Yeah...now.
What: Ambulon thinks he's hung over and lost after a night of drinking
Warnings: None atm!

It could have been a crazy night. To be honest he can’t really recall. It certainly was a rare one, if nothing else. He has never been much of a partier, or even a particularly social mech. He remembers being in Swerves and having a few drinks with First Aid and maybe…was it Trailcutter? Skids? He can’t remember. It’s a bit hazy.

To say that he was confused to wake up in a pile of rubble would be an egregious understatement. As it stands, Ambulon looks up at the sky, draped partially over a portion of crumbled wall. Groaning he sits up, rubbing the dented plating on the small of his back.

Where the hell is he? He glances around the rather barren and decayed cityscape of what appears to be Cybertron. There is zero recollection of how he got here, or why he found it prudent to pass out on the remains of a building.

And where the pit was First Aid; he was the one who started this whole mess.

“Guys? First Aid? “ No response. Just the howling of wind as it winds through the carcass of a city. “Where are you, this isn’t funny.”

He gathers to his feet, when he hears someone approaching.

“Fragging hell, what in the pit happened last night?” he questions before his new company comes into view.

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Spinister nearly drops the mop he'd found. There's a quiet moment of panicked fumbling and the handle TWAPS him in the chevron before the heli could snatch it out of the air and clutch it against chest.

"Uh?" he asks, staring at Ambulon with wide optics.

He stares quietly for a moment, squinting slightly. Should he know who this is? There are a lot of people on the Lost Light but this fellow doesn't look--Decepticon. He's a Decepticon.

Ambulon backs away, tripping over the rubble. He scuttles back looking desperately around for a weapon, or something to protect himself with.

Clearly he missed that the only thing the Decepticon is armed with is a mop, and one that he doesn't seem to have much control over, at that.

Technically, Spinister still had his rotor sword and he can actually wield that with a decent amount of badassery. Kind of his thing, since he was the only decently competent combatant on the team.

He's not reaching for it though.

In fact, the heli was kind of just standing there, looking increasingly more offended the more Ambulon fumbles around. After a little more waiting, he finally, impatiently, kicks a steel pipe at the mech, rotors stiff.

Ambulon quickly snatches up the pipe, holding it in front of himself for protection; successfully backing himself against a broken wall in the process. His ventilations stutter as he tries not to panic. This was bad. Where was everyone? Ambulon quickly glaces around for any sign of backup.

And still...

Despite the sort of insulted glaring, the Decepticon was making no move to attack him. Ambulon gives his own skeptical look, lowering the pipe ever so slowly.

"Who are you?"

The insulted glaring fades into a slightly unimpressed look and then morphjs into an expression of mild curiosity. After a few seconds of that, the heli shrugs.

"Spinister."

He cocks his head and then chuffs air out his vents and turns to go.

"Well. Bye."

"Wait!" he calls before he can think better of it. The was is over, right?

"I'm Ambulon. Can you tell me where we are? Have you seen any Autobots around?" He drops the pipe in a show of good will, holding his hands up. "I'm just looking for my friends, I don't want any trouble."

Spinister stops mid-stride and turns back to give Ambulon a puzzled look. It's a few moments, but something like revelation eventually dawns on his face.

"We're in a multidimensional nexus with people being pulled in from different times and different universes onto a post apocalyptic version of Cybertron," he shrugs. "It's kinda weird. There's, like, four Megatrons running around."

"Think the Autobots just hang out at Maccadam's. Somewhere, over there." Cue vague gesturing in the direction of the establishment. "Wouldn't know for sure though, I've never really talked with them."

Pipes being Pipes is perfectly willing to go over a part of the city he's already explored. There's always some buildings he had to skip to get back before night and despite the fact nearly every one of them had the same amount of rubble, every now and then he'd find something interesting.

Which he did, being too busy fiddling with it to watch where he's going and walks directly into Ambulon. You'd think he'd have learned by now, but, well. Obviously not.

Ambulon spins around to lock eyes with the mech that just walked into him. Pipes? But--

Oh god. He's dead. He must have drunk himself to death. Why doesn't he remember what happened? Was he poisoned? Drugged? He can't recall being dispatched in a particularly gruesome way...

He knew he should have just stayed in.

Ambulon just stares slack-jawed at Pipes, unmoving, as he continues his internal meltdown.

Oh. That's Ambulon. It takes Pipes a few seconds to process what's going on.

...

Almost there...

"Ambulon!" There we are. "How long have you been here?!"

Ambulon slowly approaches Pipes, gently reaching out to confirm that, no, this is not a hallucination.

"Am...Am I dead?"

Well, Pipes knows he's apparently dead, somehow. He hasn't been informed of Ambulon's fate, however.

"No," he says, though with some level of uncharacteristic uncertainty - Pipes won't pretend to understand how all the wibbily wobbily timey wimey stuff works. "It's just a bit-- weird."

But--but pipes was dead. He had seen to his corpse after the incident...

"Then...how?" Words, Ambulon, use your words.

"What happening? Are we on Cybertron?"

"Yeees and no. Uh. You might want to get Rodimus or Drift or Optimus to explain it better..."

Seeing as everyone Pipes has tried to help ended up FAR worse off.

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"where's ambulon?" "on the roof" "which side?" "both sides"

kjhsv;lkdjcsa GOD, RUDE

GUNFINGERS

Re: GUNFINGERS

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