70. [DREAM/DREAM/DREAM/DREAM]
[So while the rest of Johto alternately panics, cries, or rushes around trying to capture as many of the soulstealing insects as possible, there are dozens of souls floating around in that dream limbo, drifting in and out of each other's slumbering thoughts and visions. Whether it's nightmarish flashbacks or just those dreams where you're at school
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[The door is new.]
[He could turn around and walk away, but... having neither blood nor flesh at the moment, what does he have to fear?]
Out of my way.
[The five-ton Autobot snorts, and shoves the door aside, stepping through it with cannons powered and ready.]
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[The wood splinters under the force of Ironhide's push and the door even wrenches off of its frame partially, hanging askew as he steps through... and onto a floor of rusty metal grating that strains and groans under his incredible weight like an old man trying to pick up a boulder. It doesn't buckle, though... but it sinks dangerously in spots, enough to indicate that if he doesn't want to put a foot through the clearly-ancient grating and potentially disappear into the blackness below, it would do him well to walk carefully ( ... )
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... Hmnf.
[His scanners come to life, combing the immediate area. But their radius seems dimmed, shortened. Ironhide shakes his head. Must have jammed something.]
[The big Autobot moves slowly, eying his surroundings with his good optic. In a way, he's reminded of the dying days of Cybertron. The rusted metal, the vast emptiness where there should have been life. With another grunt, he kicks at one of the trashcans, out of some odd sort of spite. Stupid world... mocking him.]
[And then he stops -- the low sounds catching his attention before the other unknown noises join in. He draws himself up, bringing his cannons online with a shake of his arms.]
Had enough of this. Show yourself! Get out here!
[... so ( ... )
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[When nothing immediately launches itself at him, he stays put, looking around with an air of near-disappointment. Limping through a glowing forest after Cloud was almost better.]
... cowards.
[He probably should feel more uneasy than he does. But no. Millions of years of battle, violence and hardship sort of put a damper on fear. His scans and good optic continue to flick over the area, seeing nothing.]
[Until the movement registers. He goes still, focusing on its direction. Only when he's sure he has an idea of its location does Ironhide edge forward, picking his route with care.]
You going to come out where I can see you?
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[He doesn't get an answer that time, either-- not from the lifeless fursuit head or the trundling, distant light-- at least not yet. But as he picks his way closer, its location becomes clear. Towards what could be the middle of the park ('could' being the best word because... really, who the hell knows? This place is huge...), there's a small square-- a somewhat cutesy version of what could be a real town. The picturesque little gift and sweet shops are clustered in a circle around a plaza (big enough for a giant robot to stand in if he's careful, conveniently enough), and inside one of them-- ... THERE'S the light! ... But even this close, it's small and moving about. Not one of the actual interior lights, definitely. There's something alive in there, and it's carrying a light with it ( ... )
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[Once he reaches the little square, he stops, sighting the light. His cannons whir to life, and the big Autobot advances, slowly. If it's inside, it's probably not an immediate danger. But it's best to be cautious.]
[At least it's not a very large building. He's big, but not even Prime could have peered through the top of a two-story building. When he's in position, peering through the hole... he flicks on his headlights. The hi-beams stray to his shoulders when he transforms, so he twitches on forward, angling it in.]
Show yourself.
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[So let's just say that when light blared down from above and what seemed to her to be the BIGGEST VOICE IN THE HISTORY OF EVER boomed out a command directly above her head... her heart came pretty close to imploding.]
[Later on, she would deny that such a shrill, squeaky noise ever came out of her-- but it would be a lie, because the first thing Heather Mason did was scream and whirl around in the spotlight like a terrified criminal, fumbling her handgun out of her ( ... )
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[Regular handgun bullets do no more harm to his armored exterior than flies would. Still, they're irritating, and he lifts a hand to shield his face out of reflex, snarling something indignant in Cybertronian -- a language Epps always swore sounded like a whale had mated with a dial-up modem.]
Put that down!
[Because that's totally going to help. Still cursing, the old warrior flicks off the high-beams, letting regular old headlight... light... flood down into the hole.]
Autobot! Ironhide! Put your weapon away, you wretched--eugh!
[The last is an irritated, grumpy huff of a sound. As only Ironhide could ever deliver.]
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[Being a good shooter-- and Heather is a good shooter, after being put to the test so ruthlessly two years before-- means next to nothing when the thing you're shooting at is BIGGER THAN GOD (literally. She's SEEN God.) and the bullets aren't even leaving dents. She pulls the trigger over and over, and it's at about the point where he starts with the Orca-on-Oldschool-Internet-Explorer noises that suddenly her faithful weapon just starts making clikclikclik noises when she tries to fire.]
[Shit.]
[Holding the gun up anyway (because disobeying that order in favor of keeping the ability to pistol-whip a face that's the size of the front of a schoolbus is so what's gonna keep her safe right now), Heather stumbles backwards hurriedly-- not that there's anywhere to go. She's like a mouse in a jar, with a pair of big bright cat eyes staring in at her from above-- or at least that's the comparison that her panicking senses spit out at her.]
S-STAY BACK! I'll shoot your eyes out!
[ ( ... )
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[But... then he stops. That voice is familiar again.]
[Slowly, he leans forward, rising up on his feet as best he can, in order to see better. He has to angle his head, letting his good optic do most of the viewing. But it's in time to see the figure fall over.]
[Ironhide... blinks.]
... Heather?
[He thought she said she was familiar with guns. What in the world was she just trying to do?]
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[When his face comes into better view, Heather's on her back amidst a jumble of brightly-colored souvenir containers, legs hooked over a crumpled cardboard cutout of one of the park's many mascots, eyes wide as saucers and whole torso heaving with the effort of getting enough air in to calm her heart, which is, as she'd put it, "totally spazzing out". And at the sound of that huge robotic voice speaking her name, she sucks in a wheezy breath and starts to scramble backwards-- ... only to stop.]
[The frightened, tooth-baring grimace that had been on her face before is replaced by a confused (and still pretty terrified) frown as the facts in front of her start to sink in. .... And then it clicks.]
[In the space of about three seconds, her face runs through a rather impressive array of emotions-- first bewilderment, then fear, then utter relief ... before finally settling on mad.[She opens ( ... )
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[Fortunately, his estimate of her intelligence was right. She catches on quick enough... and he just waits, watching with a neutral expression. Hopefully it doesn't look too much like a scowl, but with his face? Who knows.]
Yeah. Me.
[He tilts his head at her when she rolls over. Was... that a normal reaction? Or was she having some sort of muscle spasm? All Spark, how was he supposed to know? Where was Ratchet when you needed his unnecessary explanations?]
[Then she's berating him. Good -- she's coherent enough to yell at him. Ironhide huffs out a wash of vaguely mechanical-scented air through his vents.]
How was I supposed to know it was you? Hmn? Just saw the light.
[There's a quiet whir of components as he allows the cannons to power down. But not fold away. Not yet.]
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YEAH, well-- ... I-- just-- this place is dangerous, okay? You don't-- just-- ... lean in on people like that when you're like, bigger than Jesus!
[She kicks a box of marshmallow rabbits off to the side and finally starts to pick herself up, reaching out for the aforementioned flashlight in the process, which had gotten dropped in all the flailing. She clicks it on and off a couple of times to make sure it's not broken.]I ( ... )
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[His head cants to one side, scanning through databanks. Then he looks around, taking in the sight of the decimated, rusting amusement park. The lifeless structures. And back to Heather.]
Yeah. This looks deadly.
[Your sarcasm is unhelpful, old man. He shifts in place, part of him wanting to reach down and offer her one huge, scarred hand, and the other part informing him that even if he was big enough to reach all the way in, his joints probably wouldn't let him bend that way.]
Was one. At one point. Landed in a pool. Hmn.
[He gives the area another wary look around. Despite his earlier words, he is still clearly on guard.]
What is all this?
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[In a way, that had almost been a relief... that numbness may have been what allowed her to keep going without suffering a total mental breakdown, but it had also made her feel inhuman. Fear was very human. As much as she hated being afraid, that first post-Silent-Hill nightmare she'd woken up in drenched in sweat and spluttering from had been sort of like getting cancer tests back negative, except instead of 'Congratulations, it's not a tumor', it was 'Congratulations, you're still a person, not a broken emotionless ( ... )
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