Burnt Out And Wasted

[show_my_cannons]

WHO: Ironhide and Open
WHAT: Venting frustrations. Or at least trying to.
WHERE: Roaming between Zones 7 and 9, and the Fighting Rings
WHEN: After all the deportations happened
WARNINGS/NOTES: None for now. Tag yourself in, and let it be known where your character is. And seperate threads, please!

Comments

[like_a_bossbot]

It wasn't intentionally, that Optimus had found himself in the lower zones.

While he didn't have the most accurate sense of direction, he was by no means navigationally incompetent. His scanners had not yet been adjusted to the layout of the Nexus, as he was not yet familiar with it. And while the lower levels were not the safest, they were the ones the Autobot had found himself in when he had first arrived.

Of course, being the kind and leaderly spark that he was, how could he ignore the snarling sounds of Ironhide's rage? He was either in danger, or a Decepticon - both options, in Prime's optics, could not be left unchecked.

He was careful not to sneak up on the larger bot, whom he quickly recognized as the one the Jet twins had been living with. His designation was Ironhide, if his memory circuits served him well.

"Are you alright?"

Well, obviously not, when he was so lividly attacking an innocent scrap heap... But it seemed a better conversation starter than 'why are you punching that?'.

[show_my_cannons]

He might as well have asked "why are you punching that", for all the difference in reaction it produced. The voice was vaguely familiar, but not enough to give him the pause that a more well-known individual would receive.

Sadly, it was also not enough to spare "Larry" the glare Ironhide shot him, before checking himself.

He stepped back, straightening. Embarrassing to be caught like this. Intakes hissed, and he rolled his shoulders, trying to look more like the veteran warrior, and less like an angry youngster.

"I did... not expect to see you down here."

Which avoided the question nicely.

[like_a_bossbot]

Fierce though the expression was, Optimus did not back down from the larger bot - Instead, he waited a few nanoclicks for him to collect himself. It was obviously a bad time to catch him, if the mangled scrap was any indication.

Better that, than another 'bot's face, at least. He had barely been in the Nexus, and he'd seen more than enough violence to last him - Then again, when said violence had been enacted upon your near identical replica, it tended to hit a bit too close to the spark for comfort.

"I'm still collecting my bearings, I guess," he admitted with the ghost of a smile. "This is a far cry from Detroit, after all."

He noticed the deflection, but said nothing of it at the moment. They had barely met, after all, and trust had to be earned.

[show_my_cannons]

It was better this Optimus had caught him here, than back in the rings. Here, at least, he was only beating in scrap metal. Back there, it had been nameless, faceless opponents that all too easily forgotten. It almost bothered him sometimes. There was no honor in it. Just empty violence.

"You do not want to be down here. Worse than anywhere on earth," he said, simply. "Not without armaments."

A few glances told him enough, even if he hadn't known this one was from the little jets' universe. All smooth paneling. Nothing exposed, no weaponry to easily spot. He was a little jealous, sometimes, of how well those from other universes could hide their weapons... but, then again, he'd never been one for dissembling.

"Unless... you are armed..." He sounded skeptical.

[like_a_bossbot]

Optimus couldn't help but glance at the large cannons mounted on the weapons master's arms, optics widening slightly. They didn't have firepower quite like that anymore, not since the war. Maybe on the Elite Guard, but definitely not for a repair crew.

Still, he wasn't defenseless by any means.

He drew the axe from his back, the blade jutting forward, the lasered edge activating. It looked like a toy by comparison, but it served him well enough.

"I have a few weapons of my own," he said with a nod, smiling at the other. It wasn't a sign of ego so much as appreciation for his concern. It was the quality of a leader in his eyes, something he looked up to in others.

[show_my_cannons]

He watched the weapon deploying, mutely studying it. A melee fighter? Those were, back home, relatively rare. And even here, it seemed. This was the first he'd seen. And this supposed Prime... had a rather small weapon by comparison. Even stranger still, it didn't seem to be attached to him at all. He had to hold onto it. That... couldn't be very effective in combat, could it?

"Small," he said, shortly. "It does not look at... effective..."

Abandoning his study, he looked up to meet the other's optics. It was more of a challenge than it was anything else.