I dare you to move. I dare you to lift yourself up off the floor [Narrative / Open]
Who: Wheeljack (and open)
What: The engineer's just about at his limit. Again. This time he tries going to the source of the problem. Okay, maybe not the source, but...
Where: The Heart of Nautilus . . . then will probably wander the city for a while. (If anyone wants to tag in, feel free to set it wherever)
When: Tonight
Warning: None really...
Notes: I . . . owe a bunch of tags (Thundercracker, V, Orihime, Death, Starscream, Lelouch, Graham, just to name a few, from both Jack and KITT), and I was going to do that tonight, but I thought of this, and the timing... Yeah, I kinda needed to write and post this tonight. ^,^;;; Tags back on this will be, likely, slow, but overall I'm finally starting to catch up, as well as clear or start backlogs, so . . . yeah. Stupidly hopeful LOL But I will be getting to everything else I owe too, promise!
Welcome to the planet.
Two nights ago, William Jesse drowned. Tonight, his body finally finished fading out of existence. He'd be back, of course - eventually, ideally . . . hopefully . . .
Welcome to existence. Everyone's here; everyone's here. Everyone's watching you now. Everyone's waiting for you now.
Though, in what state of mind?
What happens next?
This was the second time - that Wheeljack knew of - that his friend had been killed. Hell, it had been after the first time that the Autobot had personally gone, picked up his friend, and moved the man up north to live with him at the lab. The idea had been to better protect him.
What happens next?
Lotta good that had done. This was the second death . . . and the third attack. The nonlethal one in between had even taken place in his own home. What was he supposed to do with that?
And Jess had just been the most recent victim! No . . . no, that wasn't true. Crawford had been killed. Again. How many times did that make now? That people were aware of?
Welcome to the fallout.
Zane . . . Kaylee . . . Sari and Alex . . . Samus . . . Crawford (each time counted separately as far as he was concerned and why the repetitions?) . . . Firo . . . Jamie . . . Suzaku (a failed attempt, but still Firo's was too, right? somehow?) . . . and out of his own household, Jazz. His commanding officer. His longtime friend of countless vorns. And now William Jesse. Half his household. Who would be next? Swoop? Himself? If it had to be one of the two of them, he prayed it was himself. A half-misplaced paternal complex on top of Autobot protectiveness did that to a person. He supposed he should be nervous at the prospect of not only dying but being forced to kill himself, but he just couldn't muster it. Not after what he'd been through in his life. Not after having all his mental walls and safeguards shattered and left to crumble around his feet. After not one but two in-the-metal conversations with one of his one-time torturers - not an alternate version, but the very mech himself and how strange was it that both instances had ended in relative peace? - as well as experiencing one of the worst flashbacks he'd suffered since the earliest days after his rescue, after his long, agonizing captivity.
Welcome to resistance.
He'd like it again wouldn't he? Screaming- no mercy. Never merc-
~Please, please I can't do this again don't make me do this again I can't~ "Ya didn't break me before, an' you're slaggin' well not goin' to this time!"
He wasn't afraid of death, even at his own hands. After a quarter-vorn, twenty years, in a Decepticon dungeon cell, he'd learned what he could take if he had to, even if he never wanted to again.
The tension is here. The tension is here.
This had been going on for a month now. Too long. Too Primus-be-damned long! And there was no end in sight. There were no leads, no clues at all . . . unless one counted the fact that one of the victims had been targeted multiple times now, while no one else yet!? had. And that all the victims had been human so far, except Jazz but he'd been in human form at the time maybe the murderer hadn't known? No . . . murderers. Plural. Two, at least. That was the new speculation.
This had to stop!
Between who you are and who you could be.
He was an Autobot, and an aspiring Angelii. He'd made an oath, if only within himself, to the city and its inhabitants. There was a murderer in their midst, two murderers, maybe more - no, definitely more were not the likes of Ladd Russo and Graham and the Riddler still among them, for example? and those were just the ones who'd acted since getting here no, don't think about that - and there was reason to believe that he, they, at least one of them might be newly Wakened.
Next week, the engineer would have been here for six months. He had come in on the eve of war. Willingly, he had gone to participate in battle in a city he'd never heard of before, against a threat he had never met, never seen. He had died there, and come back. That had all been within his first month as one of the Wakened. His death had made sense. His death, and those of the others who had been killed in Kalliste - V, Starscream, Sunstreaker and Hunter, Terra, Axel, America, Wasp - had made sense. There had been a number of deaths in the months since, too.
Not one of them had made sense.
Cyrus used to Call out across the multiverses, Calling for people to Waken. Now, Cyrus was dead, had been for some time. But the Call still went out. From whom? Nautilus? Did it know the hearts of those it called? Did it care? Or was it just indiscriminate, not knowing or not judging?
There was only one way to find out.
Between how it is and how it should be.
Wheeljack had tried once before to contact Nautilus itself. That had been about two months ago. Honestly, he'd not expected a response. He'd not gotten one either. This time, he wasn't accepting silence for an answer. Or non-answer. Whatever. He wasn't going to accept a lack of response. Period. There had to be a way to get answers! He was a scientist. Questions were researched and answered, and he had a question. He was going to find the answer. That's how it worked!
Slaggit, someone had to.
Maybe redemption has stories to tell. Maybe forgiveness is right where you fell.
As soon as William Jesse's body had finished dissipating, the engineer had left without a word. He was tired of the helplessness, of the mental apologies for repeated failures to keep his friends and loved ones safe.
Where can you run to escape from yourself?
He transformed as soon as he reached the street, a white streak of a race car cutting through the thick blackness of the North's foggy night.
Where you gonna go?
He'd headed exactly due south until his tires found delicate colored tile.
Where you gonna go?
He didn't stop until he'd reached the edge of the lens at the center of the inlaid map, half-whispers floating around him much like they had a few weeks ago, though of a far different bent, out of a different source he didn't know which was more terrible. He powered off his optics to reduce the dizzying vertigo spiraling up at him from the depths of the starscape below. It occurred to him, as he stepped out onto the glass, that this probably wasn't a really good idea after all too late to turn back, he was here, might as well.
Salvation is here.
He knocked a heel against the lens a few times. TINK TINK TINK "Nautilus! Hey! Can ya hear me? We need ta talk."
((ooc: I probably don't have to say this, but will anyway to be safe. IC'ly Wheeljack has every intention of getting Nautilus to talk to him...somehow. OOC'ly, I'm not trying to push for anything, I'm actually expecting that Nautilus won't answer, but . . . yeah, he'd try. =3;;;))
What: The engineer's just about at his limit. Again. This time he tries going to the source of the problem. Okay, maybe not the source, but...
Where: The Heart of Nautilus . . . then will probably wander the city for a while. (If anyone wants to tag in, feel free to set it wherever)
When: Tonight
Warning: None really...
Notes: I . . . owe a bunch of tags (Thundercracker, V, Orihime, Death, Starscream, Lelouch, Graham, just to name a few, from both Jack and KITT), and I was going to do that tonight, but I thought of this, and the timing... Yeah, I kinda needed to write and post this tonight. ^,^;;; Tags back on this will be, likely, slow, but overall I'm finally starting to catch up, as well as clear or start backlogs, so . . . yeah. Stupidly hopeful LOL But I will be getting to everything else I owe too, promise!
Welcome to the planet.
Two nights ago, William Jesse drowned. Tonight, his body finally finished fading out of existence. He'd be back, of course - eventually, ideally . . . hopefully . . .
Welcome to existence. Everyone's here; everyone's here. Everyone's watching you now. Everyone's waiting for you now.
Though, in what state of mind?
What happens next?
This was the second time - that Wheeljack knew of - that his friend had been killed. Hell, it had been after the first time that the Autobot had personally gone, picked up his friend, and moved the man up north to live with him at the lab. The idea had been to better protect him.
What happens next?
Lotta good that had done. This was the second death . . . and the third attack. The nonlethal one in between had even taken place in his own home. What was he supposed to do with that?
And Jess had just been the most recent victim! No . . . no, that wasn't true. Crawford had been killed. Again. How many times did that make now? That people were aware of?
Welcome to the fallout.
Zane . . . Kaylee . . . Sari and Alex . . . Samus . . . Crawford (each time counted separately as far as he was concerned and why the repetitions?) . . . Firo . . . Jamie . . . Suzaku (a failed attempt, but still Firo's was too, right? somehow?) . . . and out of his own household, Jazz. His commanding officer. His longtime friend of countless vorns. And now William Jesse. Half his household. Who would be next? Swoop? Himself? If it had to be one of the two of them, he prayed it was himself. A half-misplaced paternal complex on top of Autobot protectiveness did that to a person. He supposed he should be nervous at the prospect of not only dying but being forced to kill himself, but he just couldn't muster it. Not after what he'd been through in his life. Not after having all his mental walls and safeguards shattered and left to crumble around his feet. After not one but two in-the-metal conversations with one of his one-time torturers - not an alternate version, but the very mech himself and how strange was it that both instances had ended in relative peace? - as well as experiencing one of the worst flashbacks he'd suffered since the earliest days after his rescue, after his long, agonizing captivity.
Welcome to resistance.
He'd like it again wouldn't he? Screaming- no mercy. Never merc-
~Please, please I can't do this again don't make me do this again I can't~ "Ya didn't break me before, an' you're slaggin' well not goin' to this time!"
He wasn't afraid of death, even at his own hands. After a quarter-vorn, twenty years, in a Decepticon dungeon cell, he'd learned what he could take if he had to, even if he never wanted to again.
The tension is here. The tension is here.
This had been going on for a month now. Too long. Too Primus-be-damned long! And there was no end in sight. There were no leads, no clues at all . . . unless one counted the fact that one of the victims had been targeted multiple times now, while no one else yet!? had. And that all the victims had been human so far, except Jazz but he'd been in human form at the time maybe the murderer hadn't known? No . . . murderers. Plural. Two, at least. That was the new speculation.
This had to stop!
Between who you are and who you could be.
He was an Autobot, and an aspiring Angelii. He'd made an oath, if only within himself, to the city and its inhabitants. There was a murderer in their midst, two murderers, maybe more - no, definitely more were not the likes of Ladd Russo and Graham and the Riddler still among them, for example? and those were just the ones who'd acted since getting here no, don't think about that - and there was reason to believe that he, they, at least one of them might be newly Wakened.
Next week, the engineer would have been here for six months. He had come in on the eve of war. Willingly, he had gone to participate in battle in a city he'd never heard of before, against a threat he had never met, never seen. He had died there, and come back. That had all been within his first month as one of the Wakened. His death had made sense. His death, and those of the others who had been killed in Kalliste - V, Starscream, Sunstreaker and Hunter, Terra, Axel, America, Wasp - had made sense. There had been a number of deaths in the months since, too.
Not one of them had made sense.
Cyrus used to Call out across the multiverses, Calling for people to Waken. Now, Cyrus was dead, had been for some time. But the Call still went out. From whom? Nautilus? Did it know the hearts of those it called? Did it care? Or was it just indiscriminate, not knowing or not judging?
There was only one way to find out.
Between how it is and how it should be.
Wheeljack had tried once before to contact Nautilus itself. That had been about two months ago. Honestly, he'd not expected a response. He'd not gotten one either. This time, he wasn't accepting silence for an answer. Or non-answer. Whatever. He wasn't going to accept a lack of response. Period. There had to be a way to get answers! He was a scientist. Questions were researched and answered, and he had a question. He was going to find the answer. That's how it worked!
Slaggit, someone had to.
Maybe redemption has stories to tell. Maybe forgiveness is right where you fell.
As soon as William Jesse's body had finished dissipating, the engineer had left without a word. He was tired of the helplessness, of the mental apologies for repeated failures to keep his friends and loved ones safe.
Where can you run to escape from yourself?
He transformed as soon as he reached the street, a white streak of a race car cutting through the thick blackness of the North's foggy night.
Where you gonna go?
He'd headed exactly due south until his tires found delicate colored tile.
Where you gonna go?
He didn't stop until he'd reached the edge of the lens at the center of the inlaid map, half-whispers floating around him much like they had a few weeks ago, though of a far different bent, out of a different source he didn't know which was more terrible. He powered off his optics to reduce the dizzying vertigo spiraling up at him from the depths of the starscape below. It occurred to him, as he stepped out onto the glass, that this probably wasn't a really good idea after all too late to turn back, he was here, might as well.
Salvation is here.
He knocked a heel against the lens a few times. TINK TINK TINK "Nautilus! Hey! Can ya hear me? We need ta talk."
((ooc: I probably don't have to say this, but will anyway to be safe. IC'ly Wheeljack has every intention of getting Nautilus to talk to him...somehow. OOC'ly, I'm not trying to push for anything, I'm actually expecting that Nautilus won't answer, but . . . yeah, he'd try. =3;;;))