robothell | [ INTRO LOG ]

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You don't know how you got here. One minute you were walking, sleeping, maybe dead -- then you're here, your feet suddenly carrying you down an empty street. Where's here?

Any Cybertronian would recognize this as their home planet, Cybertron, but it's not a Cybertron they've ever known. It has all the familiar hallmarks, but none of the specifics -- the city isn't one anyone here could identify, and even at a glance it's obvious that no one's set foot on the planet's surface in hundreds of years. The city and its surrounding areas all bear the marks of devastating war, of dust and rust collected over centuries. With no one in sight -- right at first, anyway -- there's plenty to explore. In fact, if you start walking, you'll find that your feet may just carry you in one particular direction.

A) The crater.
On one edge of the city is a massive crater left by some wartime weapon that seems to have taken out a large chunk of the surrounding metropolitan area. At the center of the crater it's broken through the surface of the terrain to reveal what looks like it might be a promising energon deposit. There is some strange but native vegetation growing around the edges, too, that no Cybertronian would be able to identify -- small, metallic, brittle-looking sprouts that bear a curiously organic-looking fruit of some kind that doesn't look like it's intended for consumption by any natives of the planet. In one rocky nook of the crater, light catches on the surface of a pool of water, which seems strangely out of place on Cybertron. On closer inspection, it seems that somehow an underground water source has formed a spring in the crater.

B) The center of the city.
If you follow where your feet seem to want to carry you, you'll find yourself in the middle of the ruined city. It seems that the center of the city was once home to a massive forum, and some of the pillars and structures still stand. At the very center of the forum is a massive, elaborately constructed fountain, although it has now long since run dry of whatever used to fill it. One of the low, inner walls of the forum has a terminal embedded in its surface, although it looks curiously ancient, out of place with the rest of the city, and unlike the rest of the technology still left around, there doesn't seem to be any way to power it on or operate it. There are a few scattered pools of water and a few of the strange metallic plants in the city, too, but they're not quite as plentiful as in the crater.

The planet was obviously once home to a massive network of communication relays, but those have all been long since destroyed. However, with the bits and pieces left behind and a few determined minds, it wouldn't be too hard to build a working, if rudimentary, one...

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Megatron is really, really done with people coming up behind him with weapons. At least when this kind of thing happened on the Lost Light people tended to be up front about it. He vents a weary sigh as he turns around, his paltry pistol drawn, and then stops and frowns in faint surprise.

(The camera zooms dramatically in on the symbol on his chest. An improbable anime gleam glints over it, in case you missed what was being drawn attention to here. ~~The view of the Autobrand is interrupted by a cutaway to Drift's expression of Dull Surprise as he emits a shocked anime sound~~)

"... Drift, isn't it?" By this point the surprise at the sight of someone unexpected is extremely short-lived; Megatron is already anticipating the explaining he's going to have to do. Again.

"You're supposed to be dead," Drift says flatly, obviously not intimidated by Megatron's pistol. He's got two swords in hand and another in the chamber. What happened to the fusion cannon, anyway? And that's when Drift sees the Autobrand on Megatron's chest, plain as day -- he totally emits a shocked anime gasp and his optics go wide, flashing pale.

"Where -- where did you get that?" Congratulations, Megatron, Drift is actually stunned enough by this confusing turn of events that he hasn't started running toward you at full speed with both swords drawn yet.

"I defected," Megatron says flatly. "I'm sure you're familiar with the concept."

What is that supposed to be, some kind of jab? Drift's optics narrow in response, his jaw clenched. He's never liked feeling so sorely unbalanced, it's never sat well with him, but these days he's at least got his temper in check. Mostly, anyway.

"You died. You lost the war. Tell me how you defecting even fits in there."

Seriously, Megatron, he's waiting. Drift knows on some level that he's got absolutely no room to talk about changing sides, but he -- well, he had his reasons. Megatron fathered the entire Decepticon movement, took people like Drift in and made them soldiers -- what does it even mean, for a monolith like him to abandon his own movement?

His optics, in turn, flicker over the symbol on Drift's chest. He looks thoughtful; there's a moment's pause, and then he responds with another question: "What's the last thing you remember before finding yourself in this city?"

Drift's gaze becomes no less suspcious for the question -- a little more incensed now for the fact that Megatron isn't even answering his question. But Drift keeps himself in check, his jaw tightening before he answers.

"We'd killed the sparkeater we found on our ship -- well, Rodimus had. It cost him his arms, but Ratchet built him new ones." Drift vents out roughly, looking frustrated with how little sense everything is making. "I already know I've -- missed some things. But that doesn't explain...you."

He nods slowly. "No, it doesn't." But at least Drift already knows he's behind. That saves Megatron some explaining, at least.

"I... had a change of spark," he says, rather brusquely. "I realised how far I'd allowed myself to stray from my original goals." By his tone and the look on his face, he's not mad keen to get further into it than this.

Drift's optics narrow a little further, listening to Megatron, and he finally vents out a rush of air, shaking his head. It's not hard to tell that Megatron doesn't really want to discuss it -- let alone with him -- but it's not exactly a satisfying answer. Drift looks at him hard, considering, for a long moment.

"Sounds familiar," he says finally, his tone deceptively light, but he doesn't look particularly reassured.

"Yes, I thought it might."

Megatron looks at him for a moment, and then he lets out a heavy sigh, pressing two fingers to the bridge of his nose. He really doesn't want to talk about this, and one more suspicious Autobot is really just a drop in the ocean at this point – but Drift's circumstances are... different. Megatron feels as though he owes him an explanation in a way he doesn't, with most people.

"What do you want to know, Drift?" he says; he still sounds kind of irritated, tired and irritated, but he isn't being sarcastic. He might be annoyed that it's necessary, but he is still genuinely inviting questioning. "I'm sure you know this matter isn't a simple one."

Edited 2015-01-03 23:22 (UTC)

It's strange to hear his name from Megatron like that, from the mech who had given him a new one altogether. Stranger still to see the weariness in his face, the way he sighs. Drift studies his face silently for a long moment, his own expression hard, before he finally yields, if only slightly.

"You're right. It's not." Drift finally sheathes his swords, his face touched with just a hint of that same weariness. "Why join the Autobots? Leaving the Decepticons -- if you really have had a change of spark -- that's one thing. But you didn't have to become an Autobot. Why take the brand? What does that mean for you?"

"... I took it to honour a friend," says Megatron, his optics dimming slightly. "And to make my position as clear as possible. I have been... told I am not a very good Autobot," which is certainly, an understatement, lmao, "but I am, I suppose... learning."

he is still appalling at giving a shit about squashy meat people tho

Drift's optics narrow thoughtfully at that -- it's sort of conveniently vague, but he doesn't really think Megatron is lying, either. He suspects it all has a grain of truth to it somewhere, but he's still not sure he wholly believes in Megatron's good intentions.

"The curve is steep," Drift admits, after a moment. "It's a long process, but you can get there -- if you work hard for it." He pauses, meeting Megatron's gaze. "And it takes more than just wearing the badge to be a good Autobot."

He laughs, short and brusque. "So I've been told," he says. "The crewmembers of the Lost Light have been extremely eager to remind me."

For just a moment, when Megatron laughs, the tired resignation seems to lift from his face and there's a glimmer of something more familiar to Drift, of the Megatron he'd known and once respected. Drift's still not sure what to make of any of this.

"They would know," Drift says, and so would he -- if only for the fact that he's been striving to prove himself for years upon years now. "Is that what you want, then? To be a good Autobot?"

Seems to Drift like you're setting the bar a little low for yourself there, Megatron, considering your usual treasury of ambition.

He raises a non-eyebrow. "What I want? What I want is to leave a better legacy than the one I've built for myself before now. To make up for it, you could say."

And if that isn't setting the bar impossibly high, then really, what is.

Drift's face is unreadable for a moment, staring back hard at Megatron, and then it dissolves into something resembling disappointment, but it runs deeper than that.

"A better legacy," Drift repeats flatly.

"Yes," says Megatron, noticing that look. "To make amends – make something better of my life than what I let it become. I would have thought you of all people would understand that."

"Maybe," Drift says slowly, but by his expression he hasn't conceded the point yet. "You're wrong, though. That's not why I do it. It's not about my life, Megatron. It's about everyone else's. There's a difference there."

Megatron gives him a long, considering look.

"I think you're quibbling over semantics," he says. "Would it make you feel better if my motives were purely selfish?

Drift is about to object that it's not quibbling when the semantics are actually pretty important, as far as he's concerned -- but he falters at that question, falling silent for a few moments.

"...I don't know," he admits quietly. He doesn't look thrilled about it. "And I don't know that I'd believe you even if you told me. I don't know what to believe anymore, when it comes to you." It's a heavy admission, more candid than he was even expecting to be with Megatron.

"No," he says. "Well, you're not alone there." For one thing, that's definitely a stance Megatron can sympathise with. He doesn't totally know what he's doing either.

He doesn't seem particularly put out by what Drift says, though. He certainly doesn't expect anyone to believe him. That he's been allowed to make the best of his situation is enough for him – of course, he'd like to win people's trust, but he's hardly so impatient as not to recognise the benefits of letting that come slowly.

Edited 2015-02-04 18:23 (UTC)

"No, I guess I'm not," Drift says slowly, still eyeing Megatron, optics slightly narrowed in careful scrutiny. But then after a moment he releases it, backing off and shaking his head.

"I suppose time will tell," he says then, the hardness of his expression wearing away, and the buoyant light seems to come back to his face. "I guess we'll be seeing a lot of each other from now on."

It's like when you quit your old job being a vicious murderer for your boss, only for him to end up as your boss at your new job. Awkward.

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never apologise for this overdramatic anime tool

:')

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