kismet_loop | [Accidental Video]

[A lone drone seems to have found a wreck in the deep snows of the Northeast Sector. It's beaten to scrap, with spent energon and half-frozen cydraulic fluids smeared from a dozen places of damage. Part of the wreck looks like it was once black with a purple stripe paralleling one edge. The rest is blue but so faded, dented, and scuffed that the protective paint has all but worn off in many places.]

[There's a groan, and the wreck shifts . . . and sits up. Ah, so it's not a ship that got pummeled by a meteor shower or something. Actually, as the helm comes up, the face and torso will be familiar to many . . . at least to an extent. He looks like he's been ten rounds with Megatron who's ten factors of pissed off at Starscream, and he wasn't allowed to fight back. One edge of his helm is a little caved in, like he took one HELL of a backhand, the optic cracked and dark. His canopy is spiderwebbed. His wings . . . well, they're bent and dented badly - actually, before he sat up and turned to face towards the camera (without having noticed it yet), the backs could be seen covered in long scorched furrows. Also? They're not the same color scheme. His left wing is his, but the right . . . isn't. Also, there's something around his throat, a tight band with inscribed sigils and tiny indicators and controls.]

[Thundercracker seems to take a long moment to even really register being conscious, let alone where he is, but finally the cold - the cold WET - is sinking in. He shifts in confusion, then shifts some more, getting his knees under him as he flails a hand through the bizarre white stuff he's half-sunk into.]

W-what the frag? Where . . .

[He looks around and the comm drone immediately starts into the greeting and explanation that everyone here has heard.]

What? S-stop...stop talking. Whatever you are, stop talking!

[He makes a swipe at it with his hand - his arms are also devoid of rifles, leaving only roughly-patched holes in his shoulders - and it beeps and darts out of the way. It dodges easily, the once-proud Decepticon weak and off-balance from his injuries. Or...not Decepticon? No brands. On either wing.]

W-where am I? What the frag happ-!

[The comm drone, triggered by the "right" words, follows its programming and attempts to launch into its explanation again.]

I said SHUT UP!

[The video ends with the Seeker snarling and launching himself - okay, more like flailing himself - at the drone.]

((Heeeee's mostly just in reaction mode at the moment, but he'll calm down and be more reasonable shortly... Also, forgive the lack of icons, that's being remedied.))

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

I hear you.

[He peers at the screen.]

What the frag are you?

Getting used to that question, and also pretty concerned 'cause you look like hell.

That's not helpful. I'm sorry.

I'm a human. Adult, female, from Earth. Name's Sam.

...Sam.

[Yeah, that's about the extent of what he got out of all that. He doesn't even know what "hell" is, though taken in context, he can guess her meaning well enough.]

You knew my name. How did you know my designation?

It's going to sound like some serious BS, but bear with me. This place pulls in people from different worlds, okay? As in different planets, sure, but also different versions of the same planet with whatever events---some big, some small---putting the alternates apart from each other. So, you've got different versions of the same place populated by different versions of the same people represented by the people here, and. Sometimes, you get a different version of someone who was here showing up.

There was a Thundercracker here before, from a different version of Cybertron, or a very different time. He and I talked some.

[He listens, but he's scowling.]

You're right. It does sound like...

[Whatever "bee-ehs" is.]

...a different version of me?

[He's not sure if he's offended or intrigued.]

[Scowling's arguably an improvement on 'the fuck is this, the fuck is you,' so Sam'll take it. At least she's got the bot's ear for the time being.]

I warned you, for what it was worth. You're going to hear some even weirder stuff, but once you get to talking with some of the other Cybertronians you'll see the 'alternates' stuff substantiated.

[She shrugs, not too terribly bothered---by Thundercracker's skepticism, anyway. If she's bothered by anything, it's the sad shape Thundercracker's in. She doesn't need to see an aura to know somebody should be patching the cyb up, and soon, but she's not quite as worried as she would be because Breakdown's responded.]

Yeah. It's not like I've got every chat logged, but I could probably dig up a couple of our conversations.

...huh.

[The Seeker wants to ask "what was he like" but...no, he's not sure he /wants/ to know. With obvious, painful effort, he pulls himself to his feet, swaying only slightly.]

You look like you're in a building, which means there must be a city somewhere close. Will you tell me where? And where the slavers normally operate?

[So he can avoid them.]

Edited 2016-04-03 19:45 (UTC)

Ah, yeah and yeah, but first hold the phone.

[Sam holds up both hands---'stop right there' could not be clearer---taken aback by the mention of slavers.]

We haven't got slavers.

…how is the market handled here, then?

[Slavery's been A. Thing. for so long in his life and on his world that it doesn't even occur to him that the institution might not be practiced here at all.]

The---there isn't one. We haven't got slavers, and we haven't got slaves, or a slave market, or maudit mauzus et merde any such shit.

[Muttered, the Quebecois is clearly an aside.]

If we had, I woulda heard about it by now. I've... been here a while, and I talk to everybody.

["Mawdy what?" but he doesn't bother asking, since that part was clearly not really to him. He just...stares at her for a moment as the words sink in. A hand strays to the collar locked around his throat.]

...no slavery here...

[He's trying to decide if this is a dream or just a really poor joke of some kind.]

[Sam had noticed the collar, but hadn't wanted to assume it was indicative of anything for fear of misinterpreting... until the mention of slavers. After that, certain conclusions were as inevitable as they were unpleasant.]

That's right.

…where am I?

[Yes, she's told him, but…he needs to hear it again.]

[It's easy to imagine the broad strokes of 'is this happening? how can this be happening?' but trying to imagine the intensity is something else. So, Sam only answers.]

Near the city of Haven, on a Cybertron. The city itself would be south of you, and west some, but be chill.

[wait]

Sorry, bad word choice. I haven't been out that way often enough to give very good directions, but you got help on the way, yeah?

[Earthlings of 2014 may not be able to boast much, but they're generally practiced-to-proficiency for "facebook creeping"]

Breakdown'll be there soon. I'd come, but he'd beat me there and have you in to the hospital before I could make it out. It isn't much, but I'll stay on the line with you while you're waiting.

Huh. Master Breakdown, yeah, he-

[The Seeker /tenses/ suddenly, looking away with a gasp of deep alarm. There's genuine panic in his optics as he glances between the drone and whatever he's spotted in the distance.]

I have to go. Goodbye, Sam.

[And with that, the feed cuts . . . as he scrambles to hide before the enforcers (that is, Wing and Jade) spot him.]

Dude---

[Well, shit. That gasp was a cause for some concern, but Breakdown is the best back-up anyone could ask for---especially in this situation, what with the medical side of his skill set---and en route, at least. That's not enough to keep Sam from worrying, but it's enough to help her stay optimistic as she resumes skimming the network for new developments related to Thundercracker's return-or-arrival.]

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