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.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

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."