[ti]Ep 2.5[/ti]Retirement and Old Stories. No, Not the Soap Operas [Open].

[Deleted]

[Episode 2.5: Week 2: Day 4: 1320 Zulu Time: 01:30 PM Pacific Time]

[Location: Earth: North American Continent: United States of America: Southwestern Region: Nevada: Omega Outpost: Rec Room]

Nearly forty-eight hours had passed since the arrival of the Old Warrior's arrival on the planet, but Kup hadn't quite managed to get used to the local time measurements despite his internal chronometer being synchronized to a place the locals had called Cheyenne Mountain somewhere in a region or state called Colorado. Humans had a truly bizarre trend in naming territories, but he'd known that even on Cybertron the names of places and locations had been equally as bizarre to foreign dignitaries and travelers that either visited or sought diplomatic discussions on Cybertron mega-cycles before the discovering of the Rust Plague, and the implementation of the Caste System. He'd mused that perhaps it had been the only other constant in the galaxy or galaxies where the names of places were bizarre to other cultures or species and that war -- that conflagration that had been as bad a problem as weeds working their way through concrete or steel on any planet he'd visited or had been assigned to.

Finding his way into the Rec Room, the Old Warrior had allowed his optics to have scanned across the adhoc furniture crafted to fit their size to the various board games on what he'd read humans called particle board or cardboard on a nearby table. The names of those board-games had been as bizarre and various as the names on the road maps he'd acquired from the glove box of a rusted out frame of an old Nineteen Fifty-Two Chevrolet Bel-Air that had been rotting and derelict for however long abandoned by the locals on this planet which at first he'd mistaken for a Cybertronian femme. At his age, he'd reasoned most Cybertronians would have simply overlooked that or for the more cruel would have found it a note of ridicule. Either way, he hadn't been worried about it.

A TV or rather a display screen had been re-purposed for entertainment displaying or at least what he'd had to assume had been local broadcasts. Every planet he'd been stationed on or visited, Kup had learned that local Garrisons tended to use those broadcasts to have gleaned information about the locals or the political rivalries or dramas that could at times be sappy enough to have clogged one's own internal drives with rather useless trivia. To each their own, he'd mused. Crossing over to one of the recliners or rather what could have passed as one fitted to their size, the old Mech reclined back feeling the rigid back of the recliner against his back plating. He'd managed to have snuck into the Rec Room at some point over the last forty-eight hours, and had found that particular recliner had been designed to cover two aspects he'd truly appreciated. The first, the recliner had been designed with comfort in mind which had been welcomed by his worn struts and if he'd pulled on a little lever built into the side of the chair the rigid back of the chair angled backwards while a front panel behind his legs and pedes swung outward propping them up. Following a little mischievous grin, he'd gripped the lever in his right hand before having pulled it back feeling the back of the chair angling backwards while his pedes rested on the foot-rest. The recliner seemed to move a little in the process, though the base remained stationary and it caused the Old Mech to have grinned before drawing a Ci-Gar from one of his belt-pouches.

“A mech could get used to this,” he'd say. He hadn't cared who had overheard him.

[Deleted]

A loud blast, a shockwave, and the following rumble.

Shook the base in violent ferver. One quick concussive force echoing through these hallowed halls. No echoing reverb, nor cascade followed through, just a stark silence in contrast. Despite a grievous sound the base did not buckle. The earth stayed to it’s worked walls and trusses scoffing at the offense.

No doubt alerting every soul and spark in the base and with it would come inquisitive eyes. Perhaps even a security response to whatever the sound was. So many bots to bear down upon the source. It came from the back of the base, tucked away from the flow of the base, backed into a corner where no bots had taken residence. An obvious origination. Odessa’s Workshop.

If there was any problem with the base it could easily be chalked up to one of two reasons. Dilapidation or Odessa. Any prying eyes would be bewildered to find no cause. The structure of the base was fine. A trace of gas lines wouldn’t even find imperfection. No cave ins or structure collapse. Only a few would know to go straight towards Odessa. But they would find his Workshop empty. Already gone with only his wooden supply crates, bench, buggy, cot, and a large black scorch stain at the far back of the warehouse room. Still, Odessa was missing. He would slink out long before anyone showed themselves.

The large bay doors of the Rec-Room swung open to a sight of nothing. Standing solemnly, Odessa. Two eyes being the only stark contrast to the black silhouette that he was. A living silhouette walking so stoically into the room. The tiny human moved towards what would be a salvaged little area made specifically for them. While the room itself was for the residents, some features of its previous residents had been refurbished to accommodate the few humans that were on the base. Odessa being the real only Human resident of the base at the moment. Since learning of the bots last week, he’d only returned home for a day. Venturing out into Jasper for any supplies, or giving the kids a bit of cash so he could sleep in. Fowler too had his own place outside of active duty. Any reference to human largely fell on him, but that's not here nor there.

In the tiny human section of this Rec-Room was a human sized assortment of appliances and cookware. Among them, a refrigerator, and while it was no different than the mini-fridge in his workshop, this one allowed him to attempt the beings of social. Now was not one of those times. Odessa appeared a tad shellshocked. A gentle tapping as he placed similarly black earmuffs onto the counter. Showing the only color a part of his body at the moment, being unsullied ears. From within the fridge he drew two beers and with them made his to a chair. Climbing atop to the table. He sat at the edge of the table, unmoving, unblinking.

There was only one other being in the room. Perhaps the rest clearing out to find some origination of the noise. He reminded him of his own father. Out fishing for a day and chompin’ on a few cuban stogies. Catching a few bass, flounder, sheephead. Whatever - he seemed well wrapped up on his own enjoyment of a chair and cigar. Strange for machines to find enjoyment in such. How could they feel the comfort of a chair through metallic skin.
This ringing was getting tiresome quickly, so much for hearing protection. He’d have to invest in some stronger muffs, maybe set up the explosives outside. Between the sound of the Screen and his hears, it wasn’t clear if the Mech had said something.

”WWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW”
”HHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH”
”AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA”

”TTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTT”

? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ?

Of course, it had been quite a good many minutes since the Mech actually did speak. As Odessa so rudely bellowed into the serene silence. He still didn't want to be rude and ignore him in case the Cyb did infact ask him a question.

[Hot Rod]

     The shuddering of the base and the vibrations that rippled through the walls should have been enough to catch the attention of anyone within, at least alerting them to there being a severe issue. Had a pipe ruptured? Was there a landslide? 

     Were the Decepticons attacking?

     Under normal circumstances, even Hot Rod would have been concerned with the odd feeling under his pedes. He knew what explosions felt like and what the usual cause and effect were from them. He would have been genuinely curious to see what was going on since everything was otherwise intact, figuring that maybe one of the local mad scientists/inventors were up to no good again and that curiosity probably would have been his downfall.

     But this was not a normal circumstance. No, today, at this moment, Hot Rod was on a mission- a quest, have you. He was determined to find a certain mech who had snuck his way into the base under his very nose and made himself comfortable within the walls Hot Rod was occupying. He'd checked every room, trying to see if he had settled into one of the quarters to retire for the day to no luck. He'd inspected the comms room, the main hall, even the 'forbidden' hallway Ratchet had told him to stay away from in the event he'd gone down that route.

     Now there was just the rec room, the last place to check. If he wasn't there then he was out on patrol, which Hot Rod somehow doubted he was. 

     The pace was picked up a bit, gradually increasing until he broke two rules in one- running in the halls and not paying attention to if he were going down the center or hugging to one wall or the other- especially on the turns. If anyone tried to stop him? Oh. Primus help anyone who was brave enough to attempt it, or made the mistake of getting in the way of the prickly mech- even Optimus- cause they would definitely find themselves barreled over and asking if anyone got the license plate of that runaway train. 

     When Hot Rod arrived in the doorway, he stopped, his arms stretched out with servos locked around the frame to keep himself form barreling in. He was greeted by a rather obnoxious and drawn out 'wwwwwhhhhhaaaatttt' coming from the charred human on the table edge, but he was too focused on the mech in the room who wasn't paying attention to him. He bristled up and marched his way into the room, clenched a servo into a fist...

     ... and clobbered Kup right upside the head as hard as he could. Probably could have left a dent there, but he wasn't really looking for what damage he may have done. With any luck, he'd knocked the old mech stupid.

     "It's REALLY fortunate that you're ALIVE, Kup, because now I can KILL you MYSELF!" And from the look on Hot Rod's face? Oh boy, did he mean it.

[Deleted]

The Old Mech had observed those other mechs or femmes that had been present in the Rec Room dart off to investigate the origin of minor explosion although to Kup it had felt a minor tremor. If the detritus in that junkyard to the brief amount of reading he'd indulged in thanks to a PaDD he'd been loaned had been any indication, the planet he'd found himself on -- this Earth had followed the same pattern almost every planet he'd set his pedes on had experienced. The planet had a history of being seismically active to even sinkholes forming causing the ground to have caved in beneath one's own pedes to the very wind forming cyclones that could turn entire oceans into churning masses capable of inundating entire coastal regions to hundreds of miles inland. He could have read more on the planet's weather systems and other phenomena, but he'd had an all too distinct feeling if he'd kept reading the contents of that PaDD and what he'd heard dubbed as the Internet that he would have been there for far more cycles than his poor old optics would have preferred. The locals on the planet had prided themselves as being masters of or at least attempting to control the Internet, the Information Highway as he'd gleaned and had almost seemed the punchline to a bad joke. The pattern of the inhabitants believing that they had held the utmost control over their surroundings to the grasp of information had been one of the galaxy's more amusing punchlines, where the idea of perfection hadn't existed.

He'd been about to take another puff of the Cy-Gar when a shout had drawn him from his thoughts, of which he'd been certain had either belonged to a Cybertronian that had tightened their vocalizer circuits too tightly or a local that had somehow managed to have misplaced their volume controls. Did humans have volume controls?

“Did I sit on the remote control?” he'd ask, pushing the side lever forward with his right hand.

The front panel of the chair descended lowering his pedes while the back of the chair returned to an upright state allowing the Old Mech to have pushed from the chair. Turning himself around, the Old Mech looked into the seat of the chair to see if he'd sat on either a rather large remote somehow the tactile sensors of his back hadn't detected or a tiny TV remote control he somehow had missed. He'd only leaned forward to get a closer better look at the back and seat of the chair when something slammed against his helm causing the older mech to have stepped back a little before regaining his balance.

“When did chairs start to talk back...” he'd began asking himself. A voice he hadn't heard in more mega-cycles than he'd been able to have counted first crossed his audio receptors before the familiarity of the voice had settled in.

“Careful now. That's stainless steel. I took a beam to the helm from the Guardian Robots in the war with the Quintessons, and had to have it replaced. It went through and through. They don't make helms out of that anymore. It doesn't have to be repainted, and it's still under warranty,” he'd quip, glad his helm had been made of sterner stuff than some of the newer models. The blow hadn't even dented the surface, but had scratched the paint a little.

“There you are, lad. I was beginning to wonder if I'd see you,” Kup said, straightening himself out.

“For a moment, I thought you were the chair talking back to me. First, it was an old ration of oil and now the chair. If I find a spoon starts talking to me, I'll quit drinking scotch...no wait, I don't drink scotch, do I?” he'd say. What was it about this planet and appliances talking?

“No, I don't drink scotch. Though, that would be an interesting story to tell,” he'd said. “Slow down, lad. What have you been up to?” He hadn't feigned ignorance about the plight the bots here had experienced or what Hot Rod might have experienced, but that he hadn't really known what things the bots here had experienced.

[Deleted]

Here little man just sat, patiently and shocked. Staring off into an empty mental nothing. He was in his own little world of white noise, but unable to tell if it was shock or tinnitus at this point. At least his beer was cold and the noise was quiet. He rose the beer to his lips and kept it there, taking a soft sip but not lowering the bottle. His eyes followed a new incoming mech that was avoiding his recent escapade. While all others went to search, this new one held malice to the old warrior in his chair. Old Stogie Stan took one up the nogging. Odi remained unfazed, quite desensitized from the world at the moment. Lowering his bottle only to immediately reraise it to lips for another swig. These two were new to him, but seemed old for each other… and well acquainted at that. Whomever Hot Rod was arguing with, he really had it out for the guy.

Hopefully Odi could just sit still and let his own debacle mull over. Less he try to hide somewhere and risk running into Optimus.

[Hot Rod]

     "Don't 'lad' me, you worthless clump of toxic waste! How DARE you crawl out of who the Pit knows where and show your faceplate around here acting like everything is all hunky dory? Who the FRAG do you think you ARE?!"

     Hot Rod was heated- both literally and metaphorically. He'd been warned about keeping himself under control to avoid setting himself off like a combustible, but this situation certainly called for it. Kup had made promises, broken those promises, and now he was showing up on Earth, arriving to the base, and greeting him like they were old friends? He had some NERVE, and Hot Rod was certainly ready to let him know just how he felt about this situation. 

     "You'd better have a damn good explanation for abandoning me on that stupid assignment off-world and not bothering to come find me. Do you know how long I was stranded on that neutral planet?!" There was a brief pause, as if not really wanting to give Kup a chance to answer that. "I don't even know for sure myself because it was so long! I lost track of time!" 

     He had his fists poised, clenched, and ready to throttle the old mech again at any moment. Odi was lucky that he was staying out of this- by choice or necessity considering the shaking to the base that Hot Rod figured was because of him- or else he probably would have been forced to endure some of this wrath as well. 

     "And don't you dare fake some of that 'memory core loss' crap- you've lost your chance to play that card. Right now you should be trying to come up with some reason to convince me to not offline you and bury you in a junkyard somewhere- Autobot code be damned. I'd be willing to take that hit just for the satisfaction."

[Deleted]

“First off, I meant it as an affectionate greeting,” Kup said.

“I wouldn't give you an excuse of full of Beryllium baloney,” the Old Warrior began. “You were stranded on a neutral planet? That's news to me. I'm being honest with you. There were no distress transmissions received from your shuttle or any downed shuttle. We were led to believe that you, and the others aboard that shuttle managed to make it to where you were going without a problem,”

“High Command wouldn't allow any shuttles or cruisers to go on an SAR Mission if there hadn't been any evidence of foul play or distress, and it was only reinforced when we lost the Space Port. My gut told me something had happened, but High Command and my superiors wouldn't let me even get the benefit of a doubt,” the Old Warrior explained, taking a few nano-klicks to rub his helm.

“The War escalated, and before I could gather enough supplies or even a working space cruiser I was grounded. The Decepticons attacked my hidden launch site. The frame was melted, torn apart and my supplies taken," he'd say. He had recognized Hot Rod had been far more angry towards him, and wouldn't have bought any old excuse short of the truth. "I was told by my Unit Officer that if I attempted it again they'd leave me to the Cons. He sang a different tune when Ultra Magnus had a word with him on it, but by that cycle we were in open war. Orders came down that all flights that among many many reasons weren't for rapid strikes had to be grounded. The Space Ports were overrun with most in Decepticon territory, and others were so much molten steel you couldn't even pass it as art at one of those uppity art shows. Fuel was at a scarce level, and Energon was going faster than the pair of fuzzy dice I raided from that old nineteen fifty-seven Chevrolet Bel-Air in the junkyard Bumblebee and Whirl found me in,”

“Those dice are being picked off the shelves quicker than they can be replaced, right?” Kup asked.

[Deleted]

He could only watch in confusion with real life rock ‘em sock ‘em robots got into it. He could only sit and watch the fireworks. All they were talking about was the past. Something that did peak his interest. He could use a break and what better way than to hear stories from their past. He’d have to wiggle his way in through the anger. They were already at it and he wanted to hear more. Well… as best he could. He stood from his little spot, and walked across the table towards them. Sitting back down at the edge facing them.

“WHAT’RE YOU GUYS YELLING ABOUT?” Damn Tinnitus

[Hot Rod]

     "Affectionate my aft. I don't care what you THINK it was, I don't want you thinkin' for a sec that you can get away with just saying whatever you want and it's all peachy."

     Just in typical Kup fashion, the old war veteran was going on and on about whatever story was popping into his head. He was quiet as he listened to the story that he told him and only found himself being more irritated at the situation. Kup knew he was supposed to arrive at an intended destination, and if he'd had any inkling to do anything he could have contacted that location and realized right away that the crew had never arrived at the check point.

     "There was no distress signal because the ship was BLOWN APART. No one had a chance to send out a distress signal 'cause our communication relay was disabled. I managed to get to one of the escape pods, though I dunno about the others. Next thing I knew I was waking up surrounded by those... weirdos." He huffed some and crossed his arms.

     Optics glanced to the side and his helm followed, looking at Odi who was sitting there just staring and yelling. Had the human suddenly lost his hearing? Cause Hot Rod certainly hadn't, and he heard him more than loud and clear.

     "STOP YELLING!" he shouted back. "I CAN HEAR YOU!"

[Deleted]

“I know you're mad, lad, but you don't have to start throwing your voice around,” Kup said, at hearing the voice.

“Wait...who are you?” the Old Warrior asked, turning his head to let his optics focus on Odessa's form. The tiny life form complete with two hands, two pedes, feet, shoulders, a helm with a beer in hand had sat on the edge or near the edge of a nearby table. “Lad,...Hot Rod, we can put the arguing and the reminiscing of old times to rest for a short time? Can't we? I think we've garnered the attention of one of the locals. It is a local, isn't it?”

“What's your name? And...what happened to you? You look like an old mechanic I knew whose helm was always in some engine or anti-freeze dispenser," the Old Warrior said, shifting his weight a little to his left pede. "He'd come out with sparks encircling his helm in some odd mating ritual ...what is that on your helm? That doesn't look like optic filaments,”

Turning to face the smaller life form on the table, the old Warrior took to a knee to get a better view of Odessa. He'd seen some very odd things on many planets in his time ranging from the gigantic Ick-Yaks to tiny organics that swam in liquid water to the Shrikebats of Dromedon ...well, more life forms that he'd probably forgotten about. The small local life form clutching an aluminum can between his servos hadn't been that surprising, but had certainly been something he'd add to his travel log.

[Deleted]

Completely in flat affect, Odessa remained motionless and unflinching as Roddy turned and boomed over him. Whether tinnitus or unfearing is anyone's guess, but he did take another sip of his beer. Who put sharp metal shavings up your aft? Odi was just curious was all. Better than sitting back and being ignored, might as well interject and pass the time.

“OK! WILL DO!” He unintentionally yelled back, rather enthusiastically, unknowingly he was still yelling. To his was at normal volume at least. It didn’t do anything to reveal any light on their argument or it’s happenings, but he was happy to be apart of it now.

“I’M ODESSA! I LIVE IN THE BACK. I MEAN, I STAY IN THE BACK, I HAVE MY STUFF THERE. I JUST COME AND GO. OP’S COOL WITH ME.” Came the introduction, along with a little ”A-ok” hand sign and a smol smile.

Odessa looked over his form, the entirety of his front half covered in a fine soot-like particulate.

[Odessa was in his little end of the base, his little warehouse tinkering with a device. It was an attempt at explosives. A combination of explosive materials, RDX, HMX, HNIW, and different oxidizers, and a final component of energon contained in a plastic sphere container. He was at the back of his room where a secondary set of rolling shutters was opened to a secondary entrance ramp so that any fumes could easily find their way out, but also in the event of a premature detonation the blastwave would rippled outwards into the world rather than ricochet through his room and liquefy his organs. One little misstep consumed the energon and a premixed portion of explosives right in front of him. Luckily it wasn’t much, but was enough to send a shockwave through the base. While Odi was a weapons engineer, he wasn’t exactly an explosives expert.]

Kup certainly had the right to be confused over this look. Not in any sense of fashion and no other human he would’ve met would look like this. “UHHHHH… NOTHING.” He blandly responded back to Gramps. No one needs to know he was setting off explosives in the base, purposely or accidentally. His vision returned back upwards, but now he was face to face with the old, his faceplate larger than Odessa alone was. He didn’t know how to react, but another sip of the beer.

“WHAT’RE YOU GUYS TALKIN’ ABOUT?” He asked again. He didn't get any answers the first time and with all the techno-babble, it sure did sound interesting.

[Deleted]

“If you're fine with with that younge Prime and he's fine with you, I don't think I have an issue...no, not an issue,” the Old Mech said. He had a tendency, and a Right as some might have said to have addressed even Primes that came after he came online as being either his Junior in years. That term of address had always been or rather mostly out of respect if the younger Prime or Primes hadn't dismissed the Old Mech or his advise.

“I'm glad you're fine, but you're...optic filaments are starting to smoke. I think you need to stop by Medibay and let old Sawbones Rachet take a look at you. Can he take a look at you?” Kup said. “Does he know of your species...what are you again?”

“What were we talking about, Lad?” he asked, turning to face Hot Rod. “Oh yeah...now, I remember. Sometimes, my memory's not what it used to be. I know it's not much, Hot Rod, but there isn't anything I can say that can make the sense of what you went through any less," 

"I may not have had a choice back on Cybertron when that happened, but I won't leave you. I'm here now, and plus that Recliner's got my name on it. I'm not leaving in any form. Even if Megatron and his brat Starscream were to come in here, they couldn't move me,”