Marissa's Arrival [OPEN]

[no_catsuit_thx]

Characters: G1 Marissa Faireborn, open
Content: Marissa arrives and has a run-in with some local fauna.
Location: Within Iacon city limits (there are a lot of towering gold buildings)
Time of day: Approximately 1800 per Marissa's digital watch, low-light conditions
Warnings: mild violence, fictional or incorrect military protocol.
Status: Active/

Comments

[my_achin_struts]

Ratchet turned a look of wary confusion down upon Marissa and frowned. "Of course Optimus is alive! Why wouldn't he be? It's Prowl we lost, not Optimus!"

"Stupid slaggin' ninja-bot," Ratchet continued in a low, rough mutter. Prowl's loss... hurt, and he still wasn't ready to forgive the Decepticons for putting them all in the situation in the first place that had resulted in Prowl's sacrifice to save Optimus. Save them all, really. "Shouldda been another way." He glanced away, ostensibly keeping watch for more predators, but mainly to hide the swift wash of sorrow that crossed his features.

"Quinte-what-ons?" he asked, turning a grumpy scowl back down on her. "Space-time, what?" He shook his head and frowned again. "You're taling Perceptor-ese. My bet's on Soundwave slagging with our heads again."

"Course... there's a good way to test that theory..." he mused, frowning hard as he attempted to think his surroundings, or even himself, different. It had worked the one time, after all!

Nothing changed, though, the street remaining creepily deserted - except for that slinky, bladey looking critter over near an adjacent alley, which dashed off quick enough when Ratchet used his magnets to fling a refuse can at it - himself remaining achey and creaky and generally crotchety and not young and vibrant or any number of organic critters he'd pictured, and the skyline staying that same dark, unfamiliar Cybertron. "What the slag... Why isn't it working?"

[no_catsuit_thx]

"Prowl?" She asked. She had never met one with such a name, but it had a familiar sound, like 'Ratchet', something remembered from reading others' mission reports. "The only ninja robot I recall is one reported to have been constructed by the famous scientist, Dr. Fujiyama."

Marissa went quiet, recognizing enough of Cybertronian expressions that this Ratchet was upset by a loss, in the way many she knew had been touched by the deactivation of their leader. Where and whenever Ratchet was from, he did not know the Qunitessons. Being familiar with the discovery that Quintessons had made the Transformers she knew, she decided now was not the time to suggest this could be the case with Ratchet. It had been a shocking revelation to Rodimus and the others she knew. And the mention here of Perceptor led Marissa to believe complicated theory of space-time manipulation could wait. Finding herself here here in these curious circumstances was a lot for her to process, as well. She simply explained in a quiet tone, "An alien race we encountered."

"You were thinking our minds were being affected?" Marissa asked, struggling herself to understand Ratchet's theory. "Perhaps for now, we should make the assumption that however implausible, the simplest answer is true: we are here, together, despite remembering different past events. Maybe, there are others here with us, allies, perhaps. I sent a distress call, but received no response."

[my_achin_struts]

"Dr. Fujiyama? That doesn't sound like one of ours," Ratchet replied with a frown. Sounded suspiciously like a human name, come to think of it. Sumdac notwithstanding (since he'd based his work off of Megatron, after all), Ratchet had his doubts about some human managing to create something as sophisticated as a Cybertronian.

Just look at the Dinobots. Human tech, Allspark birth, and dumb as a sack of hammers.

Frag. The Dinobots. Ratchet suddenly found himself wondering if anyone had bothered checking up on them since Prowl had... had been lost. Just one more thing Ratchet needed to do when he woke up. Or got home. Or whatever the heck it was that was going on.

Ratchet heaved a sigh, nodding as he rubbed the back of his head. "I'm beginning to think that you're right. Captain Marissa, was it? Yeah," he intoned unhappily. "It's Soundwave's MO, but things just aren't adding up, so... Wheeljack used to say, 'If it looks like a duckatron and it quacks like a duckatron...' Or something."

He dropped down into his alt mode, the passenger door swinging open for her as he sighed again. "Might be better if you hop in. More of those things might come sniffing around, and I can protect you easier if we can both run."

"Say, you said you put out a transmission? I never heard anything... Maybe I should try on the Autobot bands, eh? I don't have the Elite Guard freqs, but I can at least hit the open bands," he offered, before putting his suggestion into practice.

// Autobot Ratchet to any Autobots within range. Anyone out there have their receptors on? //

[no_catsuit_thx]

Marissa Grinned up at Ratchet. "Captain Faireborn, if we're being formal. You may call me Marissa," she said. "Sounds like we have ourselves a duckatron."

She marveled again at the transformation, and then stepped up into Ratchet's passenger compartment. "Thanks for the lift." Something she had learned about the Transformers: even those who didn't travel with smaller-scale partners, like Blaster, took quickly to transporting humans. She'd learned not to think of it as crawling inside someone's body, but seating herself on or in a vehicle that, whatever its mode, was also an ally or friend.

"My transmission was on a standard EDC emergency frequency, but considering the organization was not known to you, that may have had something to do with the lack of response."

Marissa then adjusted her own communicator, and confirmed she could also receive the transmission. She lowered the volume to avoid feedback.

"Are you equipped to scan for other broadcasts? Perhaps, like me, there are others transmitting, but on unfamiliar frequencies. I'm no expert, like Blaster, but maybe we can confirm the presence of others, and maybe narrow down their position."

[giri_guy]

Even as Marissa spoke, a voice crackled over both of their radios. //Autobot Ratchet, this is Rodimus Prime. En route to your position. What's the situation?//

[my_achin_struts]

"You're welcome, Marissa," Ratchet grumbled, but, by now, it should be pretty clear that Ratchet's default tone is somewhere between "grumble" and "grouch". Hopefully Marissa doesn't take it too much to heart.

"Yeah, could be," he agreed, taking a moment to secure his bearings before choosing a direction that would lead toward where he'd once been partnered with a massive Sentinel/ship. "Course, it could just be that we're alo--"

As their radios crackled to life, he bit off his words. "Or not." He won't admit to how relieved he is to hear another voice, especially such a familiar one. Optimus would have been better, but beggars can't be choosers.

// Nice to hear a familiar voice, Rodimus Prime, // Ratchet replied. // Just trying to figure out what's going on. The city looks a bit too deserted, if you know what I mean, and-- //

Ratchet broke off there before he mentioned Marissa. While Cybertron felt like home, it didn't totally look like home. Ratchet couldn't take the chance, though, that it wasn't home, especially with him transporting around a human in his cargo compartment.

// Say, uhhh... Sentinel Prime wouldn't happen to be with you, would he? //

"Stay off the radio, Marissa," he cautioned. "Mechs I know aren't too keen on the whole organic life thing. I'm not sure how Rodimus is gonna take you, but I know most of the other mechs we should be running into will completely flip their gears if they catch sight of you."

[no_catsuit_thx]

Marissa was just removing her helmet and jetpack, as the communication from Rodimus Prime was received. "Rodimus," she said aloud, as she set down her helmet, trying to find a respectful place in Ratchet's interior.

She was somewhat puzzled by Ratchet's request, but she respected her new ally's request. She remembered he had said his past included some different Earth-Cybertron relations.

"I take it you also know a Rodimus Prime?" She asked. They both knew Optimus Prime, though his fate- fates apparently differed. There was something significant, Marissa felt she was missing. "The Rodimus I know is a friend," she said confidently. There was no other Earth term she knew that explained a relationship between an alien head of state and a military liaison that was simultaneously like that of a concerned sister and a younger brother.

[giri_guy]

//...Huh? Sentinel Prime?//

The name of his... pre-predecessor? Grand-Prime? Whatever - was only vaguely familiar to Rodimus, since he'd died long before Hot Rod had even come online. Still, there were all kinds of strange mechs running around on this version of Cybertron - it wasn't beyond the realm of possibility that Sentinel Prime was here too.

...Wonder what he'd been like.

Visual contact had been made: no enemies within sight or scan, although Rodimus kept Wheeljack and Perceptor's warning about giant slugs in mind. The red-and-white vehicle was - ...not the Ratchet he'd known as Hot Rod, unless he'd gotten a major overhaul post-offlining.

...Oh, 'Jack and Perce were going to be so disappointed.

He transformed and asked uncertainly, "Ratchet...?"

[big_bang_mech]

Wheeljack had wanted to race Rodimus there, but he didn't know where they were going, so he settled for staying right on the flaming winnebago's tail the whole way. Tires screeching, he skidded to a stop and popped open a door to let Perceptor out. He eagerly scanned this new mech, excited that it might be his Ratchet, even with the unfamiliar ambulance form. You never knew with Cybertronians, after all.

One quick scan made it obvious that this was not his Ratchet.

His suspension sagged and he hunkered down over his tires in disappointment. So close...

[vita_scientia]

Despite knowing better, despite promising himself that he would not get his hopes up too far, Perceptor had slowly given in, allowing himself to do exactly what he had promised not to: hope. At least for Wheeljack's sake.

It was not that he did not also wish to see his lost friend, however... he did not share quite Wheeljack's level of... enthusiasm for the idea. To be honest, Perceptor was afraid. Afraid of that moment when he would have to stand before Ratchet and admit that he had failed. That he had not only failed to save Prime, but that he had even failed to protect or save Wheeljack.

Having faced two of his three greatest fears and the figures of his worst nightmares, Perceptor was loathe to leap into the opportunity to be faced with he third. Even so, he would not begrudge Wheeljack this opportunity to be reunited...

Except that, as the engineer pulled up, and all of his nervous energy suddenly fled him like fluid from a broken beaker, Perceptor knew, even without seeing for himself, yet, that this was not their fallen friend. A quick scan of energy signatures confirmed the suspicion a moment later. "I am sorry, Wheeljack," he murmured softly, wishing, not for the first time, that his alternate mode was not so... non-conducive to camaraderie.

He waited patiently for Wheeljack to open the door and allow him to transform, leaving Rodimus in charge of the introductions.

[my_achin_struts]

"Yeah," Ratchet agreed. "Promising young kid. Top of his class. Probably be the next Magnus, if what everyone says is true," he explained. "Less Optimus beats him to it, that is. Last I heard, batch of slag-sucking 'Cons nailed his team out on the edges of the spacebridge system. Got hit with a nasty form of Cosmic Rust. The tech savvy types were working their servos off to fix 'em back up. Said he'll make a full recovery though."

The distant pings of Autobot energy signatures just feathered across his sensors, and he altered course in their direction. The vehicle that appeared around a corner and headed toward him, was not what he was expecting. Not unless Rodimus Prime's cosmic rust treatment included a whole isolation suit that doubled his bulk and transformed with him.

That would explain the confusion in his voice, then. This kid - everyone was a kid to Ratchet, except Alpha Trion, and after watching this Rodimus transform, Ratchet didn't see any reason to alter that opinion yet - had probably never even heard of Sentinel.

"Strange things are afoot at the Burger Bot, or so Sari would say," he muttered. "This the Rodimus you know?" he asked, keeping his voice quiet enough that it wouldn't carry beyond his interior.

Weird and weirder. This kid had some of his Rodimus Prime's looks - the colors, the spoiler, the arm kibble, that devil-may-care smirk hovering in the wings of his expression - but it sure the slag wasn't his Rodimus Prime. And he wasn't going to dump Marissa out to this Bot's tender mercies until he knew that these mechs wouldn't freak out at the sight of an organic.

"Yeah, I'm Ratchet," he grumbled loud enough to carry. "Who're you?"

[no_catsuit_thx]

Marissa watched through the windshield of Ratchet's ambulance mode as he converged with two other vehicles. One of them certainly did have the colors of the Rodimus she knew. As they came to a stop, Rodimus transformed and she could make out the form of another vehicle opening its door, behind.

"There's a sure way to find out if he knows me," she said. Quintessons meddling with the time continuum as it may be, she could not rule out the possibility that he was the same she knew, and yet also did not know her. "I'm getting out." Then, she added, "It's worth the risk to find out, and if they are not really friendly, I can possibly stun one, and allow you to transform."

Marissa slowly exited Ratchet's interior, gritting her teeth at the discomfort in her leg, but standing firmly beside the ambulance, in her armor. Keeping one hand in reach of her null-ray blaster, she announced herself. "Captain Marissa Faireborn of Earth Defense Command."

[giri_guy]

Rodimus lit right up. "Marissa!" He knelt to greet her, grinning broadly. "Am I glad to see you! Did you just get here? 'Cause I haven't been here that long and I can already tell you, this place is weird."

Babbling like an excited kid? Maybe a little.

[big_bang_mech]

Once Perceptor had similarly exited Wheeljack's interior (which Wheeljack still couldn't figure out how he did, even after millions of years of friendship,) Wheeljack transformed, peering at the human. He recognized her, though he hadn't ever had a chance to sit and chat with her. He was glad to see Rodimus run into someone he knew well, though. Seeing the young Prime happy was nice, after how maudlin things had gotten after the various farm animal shurikens had been gathered up and put away.

He turned his gaze to Ratchet, feeling disappointed. He wondered if this Ratchet had a Wheeljack in his own universe, and what kind of relationship they had there.

[vita_scientia]

Mass shifting as he transformed, Perceptor exited and landed fairly gracefully - for him - on his feet near Rodimus, watching Ratchet with a quietly curious expression. "Greetings, Ratchet. I am Perceptor, and this is Wheeljack. There is much to explain."

He was interrupted before even beginning that explanation, though, when Marissa stepped out of the ambulance passenger compartment a few moments later. He offered her a polite smile, and watched benevolently as Rodimus knelt down.

"Greetings, Marissa. It is good to see you are safe, although I detect serum particulates that indicate that you have been injured? Do you require medical attention? Or had Ratchet already seen to your injury?" he asks politely.

[my_achin_struts]

He didn't like it. Not one bit. But... she seemed to recognize Rodimus, if her physiological responses were anything to go by. Better, though, was that Rodimus certainly recognized her, and Ratchet finally released the tension he'd been holding inside since he'd first laid optical sensors on the flashy Prime.

Once Marissa was clear, he transformed, rising to his full height, trying not to feel self-conscious around all these younger, much fitter 'Bots, with their boxy, but well-maintained frames.

"I know who you are," he replied, but not without a measure of respectful courtesy, no matter what instinctive flare of irritation and anger their appearance awoke within him. They clearly weren't his Perceptor and Wheeljack, so... maybe these two weren't quite as sparkless as his own were. "You're not the ones I know, but you've got their look, even if you sound nothing like him. I guess you both run together where you're from, too, huh?"

He still wasn't convinced, though, that this wasn't just one of Soundwave's tricks. Too many similarities to be a coincidence.