Kismet Loop

[Have a tiny Minicon, staring at the feed as if he isn't really sure of... something.]

I have been thinking, and something has been unclear to me. I cannot be the first to have considered the possibility, so I hope someone out there will help me to understand.

[He shifts with the drone in his hands, sending the background reeling for a moment before he sits himself up where he is.]

It seems common that we come from different worlds, but most of us seem to come from a Cybertron. We have different frame designs, different memories. That has been explained as a sort of parallel universe; I can see that. What I wish to know is if anyone here knows that at least one other person has come from their own world, their own universe's history.

[He hesitates, because it's been a long shot, but this next question is what he really meant to ask. He knows it's terrible to hope, and even if he isn't ready to leave this place, he needs to know that it could be possible.]

More importantly, if you do, do you remember a time when they disappeared from your world without any reason or explanation?

[It's been a few days since the end of the explosions that have been following him and others throughout the place. Jetstorm wasn't alone during that time, not entirely, but now that it's over, he's getting time to think about what all has happened. Who he was left with, the world he finds himself in now, the idea that they could all find themselves under attack again at any time, for any or no reason at all.]

I am a warrior.

[Where he is now isn't clear, but by the absence of sound in the room but for what Jetstorm himself makes, it's clear he's alone. If his feet could wear a path in the ground walking the same circle over and over, they would. There is no indication for how long he has been walking like this, one end of his nunchucks in each hand as if he thought he might need it. He seems fretful as he argues with himself, and completely oblivious to the little drone close by, silently recording everything.]

I am strong. I am swift.

[His hands lower and he doesn't seem to notice it or care. One hand lets go of a grip to reach up and rub down his face. A few paces later, his other hand goes a little too slack and his weapon goes down to the ground with a clatter. The Minicon looks down at it in horror with a cry.]

Ah! No!

[In a rush, he darts down to retrieve his nunchucks and clutches them in front of him again, grip renewed. One hand pulls into his subspace to retrieve the only other item he has ever carried on his person: a cleaning cloth. With a whimper, he steps over to sit down on a small stool that may or may not have been for a bot his size, or perhaps for a human, and begins to methodically wipe down his weapon from one end to the other, always in small, counter clockwise circles.]

Most humble apologies, Master Drift.

[But his fingers are trembling. He misses spots, only to go back and work over them again.]

I am strong... I am...

[Finally, he gives in and hugs his knees to himself, pinning his nunchucks against him, and shivers.]

[As promised, the world endserupts in explosions here and there and everywhere one random night. Why wouldn't it, right? Sure, this is all fun and games, or is it?]

[It's not quite, not for this little mech the camera has seen fit to track, as is apparent from his screams as he darts behind this piece of rubble and that, trying desperately to get to that broken down building right over thar. Whatever has caused these massive craters around him, it clearly isn't finished, and he's right in the middle of it.]

[He lets loose a last cry as one particularly shiny explosion catches him right near on his aft and makes a wild dive for the ruined entrance - or at least, it might have once been an entrance at one point - and scrambles to get back up from the floor to slam his back against the wall, optics wide with frightalarm. He presses a palm to his chest to help steady him because omfg what is going on even this is cray. He could fight back if he could at least see what he'd ticked off, but there's just nothing there! That same hand is lifted and two fingers go to the side of his head]

Master Drift! Slipstream! Please, respond! We are under attack!

[And he has no idea where he is. And please are you alive. This isn't Earth. This looks more like Cybertron. But it's not. Scrap is going down. What happened here what even is going on this is so not Kansas anymore STOP SHOOTING AT HIM]

[Whatever that little drone thing was that was near him, he hopes it... Oh. There it is, right in front of him. He stares at it. His mouth moves to say more. And the feed drops there.]