robothell | they say i'll adjust

they say i'll adjust

Who: Perceptor and YOU
Where: The Crater
When: RIGHT NOW
What: The science tank makes his inglorious arrival, facedown in the muck.
Warnings: extensive amounts of space British.

One moment you're lecturing Optimus Prime about the energon shortage, and the next...

The next you're facedown in the dirt, picking yourself up and wondering indignantly if this was some joke Warpath was playing on him. Because that would just be the way of things. Just his luck. Tossed out into the dirt for some imagined offense on the part of the brainless soldier. As if he didn't have enough to do. As if there weren't enough things on his mind.

But as he hauls himself to his feet... the world is decidedly not the war-torn one surrounding his Nerve Center.

In fact, nothing of this is familiar. Or as it should be. This is... the very air is different. There are things sprouting from the ground lacking the crystalline structure anything on Cybertron should possess. He can only stare at them in awe.

And suspicion.

"What in the name of Primus is...?"

Huge fingers lift one of the plants up, peering at a leaf curiously. He's never seen anything like this in all his travels. In all his research, he never dreamed... Where is he?

"Where is this?"

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So, Aftermath might have been camping out on the edge of the crater, with a tiny camera set up, trying to record people appearing in the crater. So far, all accounts pointed to the crater being the primary location for people to appear. Everyone he met and talked to said the same thing.

The camera was basically a 'set and forget' kind of deal, kept charged by a solar panel. It had enough memory to last a good month without being touched either. Mostly, he just needed to come down here to check that it hadn't been found and/or messed with, carefully keeping an optic out for any signs of the local marauding DJD commander.

He hadn't expected his timing to coincide with someone actually arriving. The old truck looks up from the readings on the back of the camera in time to see the red mech standing up.

Time to go into welcome committee mode, it seemed!

Transforming, the big, armored truck rolls down the steep slope of the crater, leaving a massive trail of dust in his wake.

"Hello there, Stranger!" he calls out over his own heavy engine roar when he gets near enough.

That... does not look promising. Big, armored things, in his experience, tend to be either brainless soldier types, or Decepticons, recently.

And while his size is enough to usually discourage the occasional brawler, he can't count on it forever. He's alone, outside his lab, away from resources, from the literal squadron of bodyguards tasked with protecting it...

There's no telling where this might lead.

"Yes?" he asks, attempting to stand his ground, if nothing else.

The rather cold answer doesn't really stop Aftermath, but it does stomp down on the initial friendliness. He transforms, skidding to a stop, before popping an energon cube out of his inventory and walking the rest of the way over.

"The Autobots are holed up at Maccadam's. Place isn't too far away," he says instead of an introduction, holding the cube out for Perceptor to take as he comes to a stop. "I'd go introduce myself to them before looking around. There isn't a lot of dangerous sorts around, but they are around."

What...

It's not like Perceptor to end up speechless, but. There he is. More or less gaping. Actual, civil conversation from someone who looks like they belong in Warpath's cadre. He looks down at the offered cube, blinking.

"Holed up?" he asks, a bit dumbly. "What -- what on Cybertron is going on here?"

Ah, there's the uppity space-British attitude coming back.

Yeeeaaahhh, that little bout of speechlessness doesn't really earn Perceptor any points. Aftermath knows prejudice when he sees it and while his featureless face doesn't give much away, but there's definitely a decidedly bemused air between them.

"I'd personally ask Nautica or Brainstorm about that. They're the more scientific sort." Well, wrong foot or not, Aftermath was still obliged to give the newcomer some direction. "The basic summary so far seems to be that people are getting pulled in from different times and dimensions. No rhyme or reason, just... pop!"

He turns and gestures for Perceptor to follow, still holding the cube out in case the scientist decided to take up the offer. "What's the last thing you recall before landing here, if I may ask?"

"Who?"

He's more baffled by the offer than anything else. He's never heard those names before in his life, but this bot expects him to know them? Like they're some sort of famous individuals? "Wait, stop. You're telling me this place is the result of some sort of dimensional rift?"

Because that he can, partially, understand. To some extent at least. It's quantifiable. Something he can research and poke.

"... speaking with Optimus Prime," he mutters, rubbing a hand down his face before taking the cube. It looks so awkward just being held out like that.

"Nautica is a quantum mechanic and Brainstorm... well, he's got quite the reputation as a weapon's engineer but calling him such would be a bit of understatement." To say the least. "I'd go talk with Nautica first. She tends to be a bit more, ah, patient. The issue of this being a dimensional rift will also be resolved there."

The cube is taken and Aftermath casts the new mech a curious look. "Are you Perceptor, by any chance?" There were a lot of visual differences but...

"I'll take anyone capable with quantum anything over a glorified bomb maker," he snaps. Though, really, the ire is more directed toward the aforementioned Brainstorm than anyone else. Ugh -- weapons engineers. The very reason the blasted war got off the ground. "Utterly disgraceful."

The question earns a scowl, and his hands go to his hips. "Of course I am! Who did you think I'd be, Jetfire?"

"You don't really look like the Perceptor I know," Aftermath says carefully. "Do you know anything about... hmmm."

Perceptor knew Optimus Prime and Optimus's title as Prime was not given to him until near the very beginning of the war, so what would Perceptor know that would possibly land him in their universe?

"Do you know of Nyon?"

"Well, you don't look anything like any bot I know, so perhaps we're even, hm?"

It comes out a bit snippy. Of course he's Perceptor -- who else would he be? Everyone on Cybertron knew him. So what if he'd made some body modifications? They were only intended to better allow his research.

"I know it's more than likely on fire, like the rest of the bloody planet."

Yeah, no, Aftermath is still not introducing himself, sorry buddy.

"Nyon's not on fire anymore and neither is any other city as far as I know." Still, he didn't point out the whole horrible mess that was Nyon and what the Prime at the time had been doing there, so...

"The entirety of the bloody planet is on fire by now, as far as I know. No thanks to Megatron..."

Bitter, much, Perceptor? Nah, no way. Not you. You're totally okay with the war, aren't you? He eyes the cube a little skeptically before securing it away out of sight.

No sense in making himself a target.

"There are currently four Megatrons on this planet," Aftermath says, almost cheerfully, casting a sideways glance at Perceptor to watch his reaction. "Two are young and I can say for sure that the one from my universe at least is quite pleasant. The third is nearer to my time and while I personally dislike him immensely, he's not really prone to killing people."

It's a good thing he put the cube away, because if he hadn't, he would have dropped it right then and there. As it stands now, he staggers back a bit, staring at the stranger in shock.

"What...? How is that...? What are you talking about?"

"Like I said, this place seems to be a dimensional hub. We get some strange people appearing." They reach the side of the crater and Aftermath picks his way up a pathway that had been cleared there.

"I know at least one person whose universe doesn't seem to have Cybertron so far. A lot of people who were supposed to be dead have apparently come from a while before their deaths. There's Optimus Prime AND Orion Pax, but not from the same universes."

The plants had piqued Nautica's intellectual curiosity, but right now that had to take a back seat to matters of survival, and she was focusing her efforts on energon refining. It was hardly a difficult process; any student fresh off her qualifying exams could recite the steps. Getting it going on a large enough scale to keep their growing population supplied, and doing it with salvaged scraps? Trickier. Good thing she was used to making do with less. Caminus' resource crunch taught a mech to be resourceful, if nothing else.

She was in the crater, surveying the extent of the energon deposit to see what sort of extraction would be feasible, and ignoring any part of the universe that wasn't the scanner readout on her wrench as she crouched in the dust beside the glowing crack in the ground.

Perceptor had not, in his life, ever experienced times when he was speechless. Or when his head felt as if it were spinning. This was one of those rare moments. When his brain actually felt full. Like he's trying to hold too much, observe too much -- he should have notes. He should have a console.

He has nothing except himself and data he can't use. No materials without... ugh... scrounging for them. And--

And there's someone in the path he nearly trips over. Being as big as he is, he hardly thinks about where he's going anymore. Most people got out of the way.

"Do you mind?"

Excuse you, Percy, she is doing important Optimus-sanctioned work here.

"No, it's fine," Nautica said absently, waving a hand to excuse him. It took her a few seconds to tear her attention away from her readings and look (way) up at the person who'd nearly stepped on her, at which point she was promptly taken aback. Some of the details were off, but she'd spent a lot of time with a version of him getting the Lost Light's engines back in pristine order. "...Perceptor?"

Excuse you, you don't even have a team okay.

He did take a few steps back to give her a bit more space. So as not to actually crush her, or parts of her, under a tankfoot. For a moment or two longer, he was silent, studying her -- as if committing her frame and overall design to memory. Maybe he was. He blinked a bit at the mention of his name, snapped out of his scrutiny.

"Yes?" Those yellow optics squinted. "Do I know you?"

Look around, Mister, neither do you.

"We're probably from different universes, so I doubt it." Snapping the panel on her wrench closed, Nautica stood up, which failed to make her much taller but at least brought her Autobrand into full view.

"I'm Nautica." She offered him a friendly smile and a hand to shake.

Not the point!

Oh, right. Alternate universes. He'd forgotten about that little caveat in his attempt to keep everything in his head -- while simultaneously juggling theories and potential projects and...

He passes a hand down his face, rubbing at his temples.

"Ah. Yes. I was told to speak with you." He holds out a hand in return, his huge one nearly dwarfing hers.

"Oh? No one mentioned they were going to be sending you my way." She let him engulf her hand with his, her grasp as firm as it could be when she couldn't even get her fingers all the way around his palm.

"Fine by me, though." Nautica was perfectly happy to be the Percy Welcoming Committee--she got along with practically everyone, and beyond that she liked her universe's Perceptor, even if he was no Brainstorm.

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they say i'll adjust

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did someone say nautica

she's like batman send up the science signal

the nautica-signal is a wrench

accepted

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