Watching the water fall one drop at a time

[leader_prime]

WHO: Movie!Optimus, Movie!Ratchet, Movie!Ironhide, potentially Movie!Jazz, likely Mikaela, (SEMI OPEN)
WHAT: Finding Optimus and dragging his fat... self elsewhar
WHERE: Near one of the entrances/exits to Zone 9 and movin' on up in the world
WHEN: Backdated to July 23 (Damn LJ brownouts)
WARNINGS/NOTES: Lucy, you got some 'splanin' ta do.

Comments

[leader_prime]

It hadn't seemed long before eventually there came a sound like a familiar set of engines roaring off in the distance, and it may as well have been cannon fire against the natural hum of dying machinery and rubble shifting in the breeze of the area. Optimus took notice of it in an instant, first listening in intently as the sound grew nearer, then tilting his gaze to confirm visually. Even when he spotted the dark Topkick and his brighter companion, he did not move, did not make an immediate attempt to draw their attention to him.

Ironhide. If he had had any doubts before that his friend was here, they were put to rest now, for the most part. Ironhide should have been dead, terminated by a double blast to the chest from Sentinel Prime's rust cannon. What was touched by that weapon did not often survive, and what of it did remain intact was unrecognizable. So had been the remains of his friend when last Optimus had seen him, but no. Here he was now, moving down the way with a purpose, seemingly alive and well.

It had occurred to Optimus that he himself may have been killed yet again, but this was not like before. He had been lost then, wandering through a land the likes of which he had never before seen in all of his wanderings across the universe. It had been beautiful, in a sad, glorious sort of way. What sort of beyond-life was this now, he wondered, if a beyond-life it was?

He wasn't sure. He had so little footing in this place; the disorientation only served to ramp up his wariness another notch or two.

At last, he considered, reconsidered, and opened a private (he hoped it was private anyway) channel on old frequencies he hoped still worked, one directed to each of the Autobots he had been watching as they nearly passed out of his sights, and pinged them with a short blip of sound. They would know where it had come from, or at least a general direction, and he waited to see if they had received it before he would even consider moving.

[show_my_cannons]

:: Not really. They shove all the Primes down here. Happened to the younger one, and the alternate. ::

It had happened to others, too. But the multiple Optimus Primes had always been the ones he'd taken the most notice of. And, every time, they'd ended up down here. Away from all the others. They were being hidden, obviously. Their arrivals going unregistered for as long as possible. And why not? Primes were, apparently, illegal here.

He drove a little faster, all but plowing through debris in his way. After so long, nothing was going to stand in his path. Not any longer. And the short burst of sound, the small indication they were heading the right way, was all the encouragement he needed. Ratchet, too, if he knew the medic like he thought he did.

Before he even so much as slowed down, he was transforming, gears grinding, plates sparking against one another -- it had been a little too long since he'd last had things seen to -- but that didn't matter. Not right now. His cannons deployed, ready and waiting to stand guard, if need be. Only then did he send glance toward the point of origin, his scarred old face set in a feral grin.

"Prime."

[dayglo_cmo]

To his processors, continually dropping Primes somewhere so hostile seemed a pointed attack, they no more wanted to be here than anyone else, but to be punished for their mere status... The Hummer's engine revved unhappily.

He perked at the brief ping, more like a cat drawn to the sound of the can opener than he would ever admit, and swung to the source. As good as it was to see Optimus, Ironhide's... interesting transformation nearly undid that laser focus on their beleaguered Prime. While Ratchet transformed with much more grace, the mild glare he shot at his comrade as his torso settled into his normal configuration hinted that Ironhide might have just placed himself next in line for a looking over.

"Optimus?" Ratchet asked, looking to Ironhide to cover them as he stepped closer, scanners flicking lightly over the damaged mech. "It's good to see you, despite the circumstances." His hands hovered as he tried to force himself to wait for permission. "Are you in much pain?"

[leader_prime]

Still unwilling to move from the alley, the big Peterbilt waited until the two were nearly within reach before he pushed himself to his feet and stepped out from his hiding place. They hadn't changed a bit, he thought, Ironhide least of all, and yet the way they had reacted upon seeing him, the way any of them had reacted...

Been too long. Far too long.

He shook his head slowly, watching them, wondering. When next he spoke, his tones had softened, ever wary of eavesdroppers who might have heard his name spoken. What part of this world was safe, if any? "My neural grid is numbed." It wasn't a complete fib. "More importantly, I've questions yet unanswered, which I'm sure you can understand. Is there anywhere we might go that is less... foreboding than this? I feel it isn't safe to speak here over any medium."

[show_my_cannons]

Oh, he saw that look Ratchet threw him. Saw it, and shrugged. He knew he needed a once-over. Maybe a twice-over. But Optimus took priority. He always did. No reason for that to change now. He almost bowed his head, hearing Optimus speak -- it was almost too much. That Prime was here...

Ironhide rolled his shoulders, shoving the feeling aside. He could deal with it later. Now, there was much to do.

"Jazz has an apartment. Big, a lot of space. I secured it myself, when he got it," he said, unable to keep the pride out of his words. "Safe a place as any of us will get."

... That said, he glanced at Ratchet. Why hadn't the medic moved in as well? He would have asked him to, before now, but he'd always assumed that was up to Jazz. Still -- "Probably be best if we all stay in one place. If we run out of spare quarters, there are other apartments in the building."

[dayglo_cmo]

Ratchet made a warning trill and edged closer, slipping under Optimus' good arm and lightly bracing his chest. "You arrived in the worst of the worst of this place," he muttered bitterly.

He turned his head to peer back at Ironhide when he mentioned the mechs of their stream all centralizing. It seemed the safest option, moreso than Ratchet's nothing-to-speak-of apartment near the hospital. Though he was unable to quite put his finger on the sense that he would be imposing on something. The medic sighed through his vents. "If I said I didn't miss the Diego Garcia hanger and all recharging door to door, I would certainly be lying."

Ratchet nudged Prime's hip, laying a field patch over an exposed and leaking fuel line. "Mikaela is here as well, and also offered the use of her repair shop. It would be more discrete than the hospital, but allow you to be seen to. Regardless of our destination, can you transform?"

[leader_prime]

"Worst of the worst," Prime repeated quietly, the distaste in him evident. It was no secret what he thought of this part of the world he found himself in now. Thus far he had managed on his own two feet well enough, never mind the darkened and dented armor at his shin where a missile caught him, but he did not protest when Ratchet moved to support him and began applying his talents as a medic.

Throughout the most of it, he kept watch on their surroundings, worried that whatever had spotted him earlier and alerted so many to his presence was still around, still watching. Now and again, his gaze slipped back to Ironhide, triggering a small current of gratitude to whatever higher power in the universe would listen that he, among others, was alive and well again. A small, selfish and selfless part of him wished it could be the same for all who had lost their lives to the war, but he believed he would never have a hand in it all, Matrix or no.

"I would thank them both, but whichever is closer will do. I fear we are still being watched."

[show_my_cannons]

Ironhide just grunted, turning his attention back out to the Zone around them, alert for any trouble. "This is the kind of 'bad' you can do something about," he said, flatly. "Worst of it is the top Zone. Where the Transtechs are. Their territory."

Zone Nine, you could just run around, punching things until the locals stopped being so dangerous. Or stomp around with your cannons charged, and they left you alone. The upper Zones were a wasteland of Transtech opulence and nonsense. Ironhide almost preferred it down here.

He glanced over at Ratchet, watching him work. "I will contact Jazz. If we ran out of room... place across the hall should still be open." And he'd pay for it himself, if it meant keeping the team together again.

As for where to take Optimus... "Your call, Ratchet." He'd follow the medic, wherever he decided to take Prime.

[dayglo_cmo]

Ratchet took a deep invent, weighing the options while applying quick welds and patches to the worst of it. Prime's concern was commendable, but with two fully functional mechs here, he doubted anything would risk getting close enough to observe them.

"Mikaela's. To start," he said with finality. "She is the soul of discretion, Prime, and her shop is a neutral area, despite our occasional protests."

To Ironhide, he continued, "We can settle and secure him at your building afterwards, but I'd rather have access to Mikaela's supplies." Ratchet flicked a pointed glance to Prime's opposite shoulder, sure they both could recognize a serious wound, even if covered over by shoddy repairs.

"Are we walking or driving?" Ratchet considered Prime's transformation sequence, his legs ended up carrying the brunt of the Peterbilt's weight, and he had been walking. At least Optimus' arms ended up folding within his cab to protect that shoulder. Worst case, the medic could essentially carry Optimus, it would not precisely be easy, but his specialty as Search and Rescue is getting the patients from harms way. Ironhide guarding over them would not hurt, either.

[leader_prime]

Oh, he liked the sound of this place more and more by the minute.

"Then we should be on our way. I will be alright to drive." The tower of a bot stepped aside, carefully lifting his arm up from around the medic's shoulder. Something under a fresh weld ground audibly against its broken component, blending in with other natural sounds of his transformation process so that it was easily missed among the noise. It did not go unnoticed by its owner, who paused mid-shift to rearrange a few panels so that it would not happen again.

Nearly a half a minute later, far longer than any form change should have taken for one of his size, Optimus finally sat hunkered over six in his camouflage. The paint of it, once glossy and pristine, was scratched and dull. Parts of his armor, mainly the smaller pieces, were bent and broken. He looked as though he'd just come back from a monster truck rally as one of the participants.

"Normally I would take the lead, but I think in this case, it would be wise to let one of you go before me."

[show_my_cannons]

"Right."

He nodded to Ratchet -- accepting his decision. Foolish not to. He was the medic, after all. And then he stepped back, watching them. His expression quickly shifted into a scowl, and a snort of disapproval. Optimus hadn't looked this bad after Egypt... he'd had repairs then. And there was something... different about that frame.

"What happened to you?"

Ironhide hadn't even realized he's spoken aloud, until he heard the final word. Then he shifted, looking uncomfortable before he transformed, moving to take the lead. He'd plow through anything in their path, if necessary.

"Follow me."

[dayglo_cmo]

It took a sizable chunk of Ratchet's restraint to keep himself from physically guiding some of the Peterbilt's components into place. He gave Ironhide a concerned look when he asked his question, and simply ran his hand across the semi's cab, the sensors in his hands cataloging the rents and tears in the camouflage armor.

Optimus was almost skittish, wary and cautious in this new place. Not that Ratchet or anyone could truly find reason to blame him... still, the medic doubted Ironhide would receive a straight answer.

"Or explain it to us when you are stable," he amended. "Mikaela is expecting us, Ironhide. We should comm when we are closer in case she needs to empty the premises," he said, not sure what kind of speed Optimus was capable of in his condition. Ratchet took a step back to fold down neatly into his own alt mode.

The Hummer flicked his siren lights once, indicating he was ready. "I'll cover the rear." If he was honest, it still felt strange whenever they broke from their usual file: Optimus, Ironhide, then himself. Considering it was only ever under extenuating circumstances, perhaps that unease was warranted. "We've got you, sir," he murmured, almost as an afterthought and perhaps more telling than he realized.

[leader_prime]

After a first, failed attempt to get his own ignition to turn over, the Prime's engine finally roared to life. For all of his battle woes on the outside and one fruitless attempt to get two damaged parts to connect, one may not have known he had ever just been through so great an ordeal just by the sound of him.

"We will discuss it all shortly, I assure you. You've every right to an explanation as have I."

Something had softened in his tone, whether by exhaustion or by some unknown bodily ache brought about anew through his transformation or by the weight lifted off his frame in simply knowing that he was again among friends who would sooner stand beside him and fight than shoot him in the face. He would not have asked for thanks had their roles been reversed, but it needed to be said, and he had learned long ago what it meant when words left unspoken became something to regret with no hope of redemption.

"And thank you, both of you. I wish not to think on where I might have been without you."

[show_my_cannons]

The big truck sits still, waiting for the signal to get moving. Ratchet was right. They could talk later. Right now, they had a different sort of mission. Optimus took priority. He'd get his answers. He just had to be patient. Once they got to the shop, and Optimus was not in danger of falling apart, they'd talk.

"Got it. Follow me."

Ironhide revved his engine, and started forward. It was fortunate for them all that he'd spent so much time down here, blowing off steam. If any of their team knew the way around this place, it was the old weapons master. There were several ways back up to the other zones, and some of them actually navigable. He took the shortest one he knew, the one that would be the least taxing on an injured frame.

"Not necessary," he answered, simply. "Would have come for you, no matter where you were."

[dayglo_cmo]

Ratchet followed along in formation, keeping half a scanner on their surroundings and letting the two varied trucks ahead of him set the pace out of the alley.

"Ironhide's right," he agreed, only barely louder than the sounds of their combined engines. "It's more than just our duty."

Soon after he lapsed into a rather pensive silence, attempting to keep his scans over Prime at least mostly unobtrusive. Mechs were dropped into Axiom from all different time periods. The medic could not decide if he was reassured or even more worried that Optimus had no sign of the events at the pyramids that Ratchet had last seen on him. That left him to wondering just what had caused the current wounds. He would remember that maimed shoulder if it had happened in their shared past.

"Watch your fuel levels, sir."

[leader_prime]

"Even still." He did not bother to elaborate - he did not need to. He would have taken their concern any day and felt it better served to be directed elsewhere, but always on the other hand, he was grateful to have it at all. For all the things he had done right or wrong in his time, he never had felt worthy of half of the good he had received.

Likely, he never would. It was his nature and always had been.

Around them, the world slowly seemed to improve as they moved up level by level, though with each his paranoia only deepened. The Transtechs. He had heard about them; they were those at the top of the metaphorical food chain in this world. So little had been explained to him about their function or their form, only that they were in charge here, and that he had best keep his head down if he knew what was good for him.

Once he was comfortable with the place, he was sure he would not be so docile, but he wasn't about to jump to conclusions, and he wasn't about to rush into anything head first this time. Combat was one thing, but this was a whole new battlefield. He knew already that he was going to learn to loathe it.