Because, Because you were never really real to begin with

[stand_witness]

Characters: Soundwave, and Slipstream
When: Now.
Where: Hospital Morgue
What: Coming online, and all the parallel universe paradoxes
Open or Closed? Closed for now, could be open later?
Rating/Warnings: Probably violence, and robots.

Comments

[dontasktrix]

Slipstream came out of stasis she didn't have memory of going into! The first thing she noticed, apart from the passive sensing that told her it was dark and relatively cool, was that she was restrained; bundled in some tarp or something, like smuggled goods. Her arms and guns were folded across her cockpit canopy, and her wings were folded behind her back, without slack to move them. This was not OK!

Radar was suffering so much signal reflection, she had virtually no picture of her surroundings. She couldn't see paths of egress. Couldn't calculate escape vectors. She could barely move!

"The frag is the meaning of this!" She shouted, vocalizer rasping and shrill with all the unwanted emotional subroutines triggered by her restraints. She'd had an exit visa! Been standing on one of those platforms waiting for the TransTechs to do their funny trans-dimensional space bridge thing! Exit visa! not deported to some dead universe, or worse!

Slipstream threw her weight into a roll, and fell.

Her thrusters fired, an automatic response in her base programming to the sensation of freefall. But, it was only nano-kliks before her left side struck a flat surface, and one without much give.

If she'd been calm, she might have detected the fumes dispersed where her thrusters had burned through some kind of plastic, but she wasn't calm.

[stand_witness]

Instantly on alert to the strange readings coming from that bag ( a human body bag if his memory files hadn't been also tampered with ) Soundwave reacted purely out of instinct, and dropped into a crouch with his back to the corner of the morgue.

That was definitely a spark signature. Without waiting for more data, or threats to appear, he took on cautious step closer, and lowered his thin, sharp servos to grasp both sides of the strange bag, and tear it open--

What. Is. That?

Luckily for Soundwave, his faceplate revealed nothing, save the audio wavelength as he played back the femme's own voice clip;

"The frag is the meaning of this!"

[dontasktrix]

Slipstream's reaction went quickly from fear, to relief to anger, all in under a klik. So her rather more communicative facial components were taken by a series of over-dramatic expressions.

Enemy or ally? Mentally she modeled the known factors into likely scenarios, seeking the best course of action.

"That's what she said?"

And, that was probably not it! Fragging bits of her loser template revealing themselves as her oh so stellar inheritance! She could just picture Starscream leering at her. Just the thought made her vocalizer click in irritation.

"I mean, I probably could have done that," she tried.

[stand_witness]

Soundwave did not react save to switch to lines of ( pointedly Decepticon coded writing ) and flashed a text message in Cybertronian up on his faceplate. At his sides, four tentacles writhed in disquiet, awaiting the unknown's possible answer.

Identify

[dontasktrix]

Optic lenses rolling from the - more communicative than she thought - faceplate to the tentacle-looking things, Slipstream put on her best smile and, slowly, pushed herself into a seated position.

Wings finally free to fan behind her, the Decepticon brands were likely quite visible.

"How about, you show me yours...." She suggested with a gesture of sharp talon-like digits, inviting response. She was already trying to identify this bot. She couldn't easily place his Stream of origin, but the glowy purple bits reminded her of that hovercar she'd met. Breakdown, or something.

[stand_witness]

Wrong answer.

And Soundwave is on edge enough without some disturbingly familiar flippant answers piled on top of it. Unfortunately, this unidenified femme happened to be the one in this room with him, and gets a good taste of how fast those tentacles can move. Four becomes five, becomes six, and all move viper-fast to reach for, and ensnare limbs, while a wingtip-shaped "hand" slaps against the other's wing, and digs sharp servos in.

This time, when the line of text is repeated, it's with restraints pulling dangerously hard at limbs, and wing.

Identify
State: Designation, functions, allegiance
Reasons for capture, objectives, trade craft

Positioned like this, however, Soundwave's Decepticon brand is on display higher up on the same flat "arm".

[dontasktrix]

"You think this helps me process!?" She screams at him. Because, it exactly doesn't, and it's taking a whole lot of internal processing to determine anything from the conflicting signals of her logic circuits and emotional subroutines.

She attempts to gain slack by wriggling. It's just undignified. "FRAG!" Slipstream vocalizes a sigh. "You know this is why Autobots win. No team spirit. Where's the loyalty to the cause?"

But, hopefully, before it can be said - or texted - that she's the one of wavering allegiance here, she continues. "It's a matter of faction record." And, not like a secret she's telling anyone. "Designation: Slipstream. Rank: Sub-Commander. Faction: Decepticon. And, that's all you slaggin' get, because it's debatable you can outrank me, not even being from the same universal stream!" And he doesn't look like a Megatron or Starscream, or even Strika, for that matter.

[stand_witness]

Well, that was a little better. Enough that Soundwave releases his hold(s) completely, and goes so far as to stand up, and dock his feelers.
Universal stream again, hmm? Seems wherever he was, he was still dislodged from his own continuity. That was another problem being added onto a growing list. But, Slipstream had obeyed, though Soundwave is still extremely wary of this strange mech. Nevertheless, his helm tilted marginally at her, and a new line of text flashed up;

Designation: Soundwave
Faction: Decepticon

And that was all she was getting for now. Well, aside from one of those long, spindly servos pointing at the tag on one of her bases. On inspection, it seemed he had one as well...more inane human customs, or prison identification?

[dontasktrix]

The wariness was mutual. But, such was the way with Decepticons. Instilled rhetoric about use of martial action for the cause of freedom too often translated into bots getting extra competitive, wanting to be free, or just viewing everyone as the potential next casualty for their greater cause. Well, in her opinion, based largely on the template's observations.

Slipstream stood, ripping shreds of bag and paper from her armor. She froze, a moment, when she saw the name Soundwave. She had actually never met one of those in person, but she knew of several. And the idea that those tentacle things were data cables now occurred to her. Of course, she did her best 'everything's all right here' show. And, hoped he wasn't quite as creepy as the Tyran.

"So~ Does that mean you don't outrank me?" Not that her being a sub-commander meant much. Just that if Starscream lost his head or something - which he had - she was qualified to lead sorties.

She crouched neatly to lift the tag from the debris of bodybag and paper something. Curiously, the number they'd decided to assign her wasn't bad. It seemed kind of lucky, actually. The whole dead thing, though? One more to add to the list of TransTech bureaucratic incompetence. They were as bad as Autobots!

[stand_witness]

The flippant question is met with the unflinching "stare" of a blank faceplate. You said it, yourself, Slipstream; he's not from your universal stream. What's more? Titles, and ranks mean squat when the mech you're facing doesn't worry overly much about them in the first place.
Do you outrank him? Possibly. Does that mean you can give him orders? Absolutely not.

Soundwave even kept his faceplate pinned on Slipstream for the time it took for one smaller feeler to reach down, and remove the tag from his base. Well, if this is to be prison identification, Soundwave wasn't having it. He'd been enslaved once already, and would be slagged before he'd go back.
The feeler crumples the tag unceremoniously, and while Soundwave's attention was on his radial scans ( though his faceplate still doing it's creepy starting, and following Slipstreams movements ) the feeler crept behind him to pick up one of the offered earth tech on the shelf. There's two here, so it must mean the other one was meant for this strange mech.
Not a bad interrogation tactic, actually. Let the target believe they are not alone, then use the planted 'friend' to extract details. Well, whoever it was that was in charge of this little prison transfer was going to be sorely disappointed.

Only after a longer uncomfortable silence than the first did Soundwave turn away to head out the door to the little morgue. Elevator shaft in the hallway, and though everything was much too large, it was oddly nice not to have to crawl through warehouse docking. All he had to do was duck under a doorframe to be able to move relatively easily.

Oh, and he's not waiting on you, either, Slipstream.

[dontasktrix]

All the apparent peering! If Soundwave stared at her long enough she could touch-up her enamel in his smoky faceplate - if she had any of her maintenance kit, which she apparently didn't. It wasn't her first time at the trans-dimensional rodeo, but she didn't imagine she'd easily find the latest in Cybertronian personal care in a place as weird looking as this. Knock-offs of imported tech and goods had been the best thing to come from the denizens of the Nexus.

"Yeah, I guess that would be telling," she said quietly. She promptly snatched the remaining device. At least this place had a lot less forms to fill-out.

She watched Soundwave take the single exit, and smiled to herself. Go ahead, take point, she thought. She really didn't mind. Slipstream followed after just a couple nanokliks.

"Not much of a talker, eh?" She called, ducking slightly and pressing back wings to navigate the doorway. "You sure you picked-up the right device? I mean, maybe somebot could track these things, so I guess there's some advantage to acquiring another. But, you sure I don't have yours?"

[stand_witness]

No, Soundwave isn't much of a talker. A point further proved when Slipstream's attempts at quibbling over phone identification only result in the tall mech pausing, turning his helm to regard her, and holding up both phone, and the crumpled paper in servos to show her the matching identification number.

He got the right one. Not sure he'll use it yet, but he's not trading with you, Slipstream.

He's also stalking on down the hall, and after only a beat of hesitation, pressing the elevator's button. He could, of course, just pull the doors open, and fly up the elevator shaft, but why? Scans showed no other human vital signs, or Cybertronian vital signs in the immediate area. In fact, it showed nothing, and no one at all. The latter was a little worrisome, but this entire situation was worrisome, so that it only added to the list.

...Ugh, waiting for the lift is annoying. Well, at least Soundwave takes the moment to flash another message at Slipstream;

Query: last memory files prior to imprisonment, transfer?

[dontasktrix]

Slipstream ran along the hall, her gait no more girly than any other Seeker she'd seen, but they generally did have a airy type of movement. She glanced to the elevator doors and button.

She was about to ask a question of her own, when she saw the flashed message. Slipstream had to debate her answer. It wasn't like her to just give away information. Who knew what could be used against one? But, this Soundwave didn't seem any more likely to share. She didn't get him, and that was an intolerable variable to deal with.

"All right. You're no dim processor. Anybot can see that. But, it's not exactly going to be to anyone's advantage, if we don't share some information. What do you say we work out some exchange? Let's say- data for data?"

[stand_witness]

Soundwave wasn't convinced this - everything from the circumstances presented, to Slipstream's presence - wasn't some elaborate trap, but she did have a point. If it truly was that this mech was disjointed from her continuum just as he was, then it was advantageous to both to share data.
He would just have to be careful about what he shared.

Proposal accepted

Ding! The elevator doors opened, and Soundwave ducked into the lift. His upper wingtips clicked harshly against the ceiling, though, and he did have to wonder if it wouldn't be better to just tear the little metal box of an elevator apart, and fly up the shaft.

But, he didn't. Simply faced Slipstream, and actually might seem to be making room for her ( more like keeping away from her ) as he flashed another message up on his faceplate.

Restate: last memory files prior to imprisonment, transfer?

You first, Slipstream.

[dontasktrix]

She slipped into the elevator, not really wanting to get cozy with those tentacles any more than Soundwave seemed to want anybot in his personal space. She did allow herself a slight smirk, at having reached some agreement.

"You know of the TransTech Cybertronians? Well, regardless, let's say I may have encountered a few, and my coming here would seem to be one of their typical bureaucratic blunders! Spacebridge malfunction is as good a theory as any." She relayed this all in as careless and casual a manner as she could.

But, there was something else she had wanted to ask. "And, not that I imagine you'll offer the information, but- this doesn't exactly look like a Cybertronian turbolift, does it?"

[stand_witness]

Awkward elevator ride of both mechs squished into a little bitty box, and trying not to get in each other's space. Honestly, Soundwave felt far more 'trapped' in here than he had in the morgue. It may be because he couldn't extend his arms, and was having to awkward drop his 'shoulder blades' down to even fit in the fragging thing in the first place.

Assessment: Correct
Lift design indicative of fleshling architecture

ID; Slipstream's supposition re: temporal flux phenomena possible.
Insufficient data, speculation premature

At least it was only a ride from the basement to the lobby? Ugh, still was going far too slow, though.

ID; Soundwave under previous capture, imprisonment prior to systems power down
Theory: ID numbers assigned to prisoners during transport, possible unknown captors engaging in counter espionage
Insufficient data

There. A theory for a theory should be equal enough.