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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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 thought you were-- ... I don't even know what I thought you were.
[That inevitable sense of fatigue that always occurs after a surge of panic is starting to creep in, and Heather lets her arms hang limply as she looks up at the robotic face outside the skylight, her temper starting to drain away.]
A UFO, maybe.
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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 automaton'.]
[... But that was quite awhile ago. Right now, the fact that her heart had been pumping so hard that her ribcage hurt was just annoying.]
[Huffing, she leans down to start picking up all the various odds and ends that spilled out of her pockets when she fell-- bullets, band-aids, more keys than anybody would know what to do with...]
Yeah, yeah, easy for you to say... you're the size of a house. Some of us are a little more bite-sized and meaty than a walking junkyard... [Her voice gets a little lower in volume on those last couple of words, because as cheeky as Heather is, her survival instincts are shaking their heads and mouthing 'no' at the thought of mouthing off to something that could squish her like a gnat.]
This is a themepark. What's it look like?
[She knows that's not what he meant, but ... how exactly does one explain something like... well, this? Hell, she's not even sure how he GOT here...]
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[Though, had he been more in-tune with his human comrades, he probably would have known what exactly he was looking at. And then understood.]
Watch it. This 'walking junkyard' can still take a few faceplates.
[Yes, that's right. Take a few faces. Optimus had to learn it from somewhere -- although Ironhide hasn't seen that part of his timeline, yet. He doesn't sound angry, though. He's too used to dealing with attitude. His most recent student was practically made of it. And so was Cliffjumper.]
Noticed that. A theme park where?
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Hmph...
[Stuffing the mess of seemingly-random bits and pieces back into their respective holding places, Heather bites her lip briefly in indecision. ... But it doesn't last long. He was HERE and that meant she couldn't dance around the truth. At least not as much as she often did in Johto.]
Maine. Rural. Way out in the boonies. An old historical town that hardly anybody except historians and honeymooners've heard of. S'called Silent Hill.
[... And then, after a brief pause, she adds--]
My hometown.
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[The name earns a blink, and a scowl. It's not in his databanks, and, if it was in rural Maine, it should be. Unless the maps he'd downloaded had been completely off.]
Yeah... never heard of it. Not in any of my databases.
[Her hometown? Her 'bad neighborhood'? Another slow look around -- and she really wasn't kidding. Their new prison was a true improvement, as far as he could tell.]
[Unfortunately, tact isn't something he has to spare. When he speaks again, it's direct, and blunt as a rusty spoon. As usual, pretty much.]
... Your hometown looks worse than mine.
[And Megatron had worked Metrotitan over good. Corpses hanging from the buildings and everything.]
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[She waves a hand, slightly dismissively.]
S'all right... honestly, I kinda figured that'd be the case. Your Earth is probably a little different than mine... seems to be the case with a lot of the worlds people are from... [And it's kind of a relief to hear that Silent Hill doesn't exist in every world... even the ones that shared most everything else.]
[The second comment actually makes her snort. It might be blunt, but hey, it's the truth! And it's not like there's any love lost between Heather and this place... well, from Heather's end, anyway.]
That doesn't surprise me. S'not always like this... but then, far's I'm concerned, 'this' is the only thing that matters. [You couldn't pay Heather to venture back to even the normal Silent Hill, the one on the surface that most people saw, never knowing or feeling everything that lurked, just a thin layer of reality away... but then, she supposed she didn't HAVE to be paid... she seemed to get dragged back here in her dreams often enough, whether she wanted to be or not.]
Look, I'm gonna come out of the building, all right? Don't-- uh, go anywhere.
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[Especially if the Autobots and Decepticons aren't brawling across Egypt in her world. Someone had to have heard about that little escapade, after all.]
[He frowns at her comment, looking around again. Personally, he doesn't see anything important. Unless the girl has a secret passion for rust that she never let on about. If that was so, he'd have to show her his right foot. That canine and its lubricants... eugh.]
What is so important about this place? Hmn?
[An empty desert was more important than this place, it seemed like. But at her request, he nods, and turns his attention back to their surroundings. Empty as it looked, he didn't want to let his guard down too much.]
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[She emerges from the doorway a few seconds later, picking her way down the narrow stairs with some difficulty-- it wasn't particularly obvious while she was flailing around in the store, but she's moving with a bit of a limp.]
It's ... a really long story. ... And not a very nice one, m'fraid.
Unless you're a horror enthusiast.
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[But it doesn't seem like she's fairing all that well either. He studies her, one knee to the ground, his elbow resting on the other. Both cannons are still unfolded, clearly on display.]
Stories from 'bad neighborhoods' rarely are. Probably heard a lot worse.
[He waves a hand toward her.]
What happened to you?
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[She wrinkles her nose as she makes it to the bottom of the steps, reaching out a hand to clasp the railing tightly as she hops down from the last one with a wince.]
Well, no offense're anything, I mean... I have no idea what life was like back on the Planet of the Giant Metal People or wherever, so I guess I have no right to say 'you probably haven't', but .... you probably haven't.
[Of course, she could be a little biased...]
I took a spill a little while ago, s'all. Was trying to end a conversation with a really annoying local and he didn't take it too kindly.
[She leans down to sort of... irritably pound a fist on the uncooperative leg, because... hitting yourself totally fixes injuries. Then she looks back up at the autobot, actually taking in the details now that he's not just a pair of headlights blaring down at her through the ceiling like somebody pointing a flashlight into a fishbowl.]
... Holy crap, you really do have cannons.
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[One of those heavy hands lowers, hanging around her height, in case the girl needs something to hold onto.]
... Remind me to tell you what Megatron's favorite thing to do to prisoners was. Cybertron was a planet of rust and death after he began the war.
[It's said with no small amount of bitterness, or anger. He rolls his shoulders, looking at her again, and nodding. It must not be that bad, if she's walking around -- but he's no doctor. He has no idea.]
[The mention of cannons though... that makes his optics light up. He straightens, holding up one arm and flexing his hand. Molten blue light flickers to life in the barrel of the massive gun.]
Yeah. I do. Shall I show you them?
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Sounds like a good bedtime story... [Her sarcasm is obvious, there-- she's sure it's not pleasant, whatever it is.... but right now? CANNONS. FUCK YEAH. She actually grins up at him broadly.]
Be my guest.
Can you like-- blow something up? Dude, please say you'll blow something up.
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[Of course, nightmares are sort of easy to work around when your brain works like a robot's. But he understands the concept readily enough. And talk of Megatron is always something that can be skipped over in favor of better, brighter things.]
[Like cannons.]
[He straightens up slowly, joints grinding together with a painful, grating sound. A result of coming here straight after battle, with no medical attention. He regards her with a bemused expression, like she's just asked him something ridiculous.]
Hmnf. Can I blow something up? Can I? All Spark...
[Despite how cranky the comment is, he steps away a few paces, glancing around until he spies a good target -- some rusted shack. Maybe it was a ticket booth, or a snack stand at one point. But that's irrelevant. It's not as big as he'd like, but it's something.]
Get behind me.
[It's an order, one he damn well expects to be obeyed. Some flying shrapnel from a man-made structure won't faze him much, but she's small and squishy. While he waits, he sets himself, lifting his arms, and aiming. Targeting sights flash over his vision, and he nods.]
[The cannons begin to whirl, barrels glowing molten blue and orange.]
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[Skirting his leg, she shuffles behind it, though she can't help but lean out slightly to watch the mechanisms come to life, with an impressed 'whoa'. What she wouldn't give to have had those on that fateful night in this place...]
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[Light literally explodes from the barrels of the weapons -- also orange, and blue -- streaking toward the shack with unerring speed. Recoil that would have likely knocked a man back several dozen feet only makes Ironhide's arms jerk slightly.]
[The shack erupts in an blast of light and sound and bits of building material. It's safe to say that when the inevitable dust cloud clears, there is nothing left but burning rubble.]
[... and one satisfied Autobot.]
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