[ti]Ep 3.5[/ti]Better Late than Never [Closed]

[Optimus Prime]

Episode 3.5 | Week 1 | Day 2




Things had gone so far out of control.

One issue after another, each seemingly worse than the next in leaps and bounds that made a prior crisis seem mild in comparison. They all built up like a rising tide threatening to drown them all, before Ratchet and Patch were swept out of the picture, and as such, they were now living off of borrowed time. Should someone get seriously injured beyond surface traumas, then it was essentially a guaranteed loss of their life without medics that were capable of working with the finer details of a frame's interior. Any organ damage could lead to full failure, and a need to see if stasus alone could hold off death until some kind of solution could be found.

Front and center were the noisy threats such as this... only, in the process of dealing with those that screamed for focus, the quiet ones had been pushed into the shadows. Dropped into a corner, a thin fuse crackling away beneath the roar. It was oftentimes the most silent of concerns that were the deadliest, and what had occurred because of it was a painful oversight, welcoming issues with an outstretched hand.

It spoke much about overall stability... or more... the lack of it.

MECH was a serious threat to behold with their more recent abomination, and to know they had things supposedly that could target their neural nets and radar profiles? Able to pick them out of a crowd? It was an added layer of lethality to an already dangerous element. The real trauma however from this information had only been noticed after the fact, while trying to line everything up for a series of directives that would be passed out to others. It was when looking over the list of concerns, that Optimus was reminded of a little quiet message that came from an oh so quiet source. A whispered warning that was gifted to him, only to nothing with it... Ratchet being taken down by such a monster mere days after.

This sudden association surged a level of stressed anger to the forefront, finding even more blame in what should have been a completely avoidable incident. If he had stepped forth and looked into it right away rather than letting other issues snag his focus, Ratchet could still be here. He could still have his closest friend... a friend that was made back when he was his old self. Before he had been twisted into an icon. He certainly befriended others as Prime... but it wasn't the same, there still that detachment while speaking through the veil of an illusion he had to uphold. No... he lost it all, all because of his negligence. All because he simply looked away at the worst of moments.

No more calls.

No more passivity.

No more waiting for the right moment.

The moment was now, and Optimus was going to find Dart this day.

Full stop.

---

Dense foliage. Rocky terrain slicked in moss. Blotted out daylight in an enclosed ecosystem.

Umpqua National Forest was a tourist region for its beautiful visuals and photography opportunities, yet, its vast landscape branched far beyond where the average individual tended to wander. Broader roads shriveling to thin lanes before dead ending. Hiking trails becoming choked out from nature claiming them, creating rather dangerous conditions for those that did not come prepared. Upon moving further and further from the root roads, the true wild nature of it all took hold, and it delved into untouched lands.

Which made it particularly interesting when the cell phone was triangulated to this region.

It was not a refined art tracking burner cell phones, yet, it could be done within reason, especially when aided by the United States Government. It permitted them to narrow down the search intensely, and in turn, permitted Optimus to gain a bead on roughly where to go to reach his intended goal. In the process, he had found himself deposited into a part of the world that clashed violently with the norm that his Autobots have had to endure, attempting to locate the cellphone in question, but more importantly the individual it belonged to.

A heavy ped crushed down onto stone and soft earth, the raw weight behind it causing the rock to sink into the ground as a large form strode forward up an incline. Optimus did not know what exactly he was looking for in order to track where the femme was lurking, the region so dense and compacted that they could move right past one another so long as auditory cues were not loud enough. He could be three steps away from her trail of footfalls and snapped branches, or he could be a half mile out. It was a search that could feel futile, especially since the femme's plating was such a neutral tone. Easy to bleed into the backdrop in a way, unlike himself, where red, cobalt, and chrome clashed violently against muted browns and vibrant greens.

That is, if 'Dart' was even the individual he believed it to be and it wasn't someone else entirely.

Despite the triangulation efforts to narrow down the region as best they could, these lands simply were far too rough for there to be much hope in taking a blind hike, hoping for luck and fate to finally shine upon him. The key element however, was that Optimus did not need to hunt Dart down like some sort of animal in the woods. If he wanted to track her, he would have brought an individual appropriate to the job to find her no matter how far she would try to flee. No. She had wanted to find HIM before, going so far as to inform Rafael to pass on said message. As such, cyan optics flicked up towards the canopy above, his jaw tightening a moment as he thought over his next action.

There really was only one option in the now, as he suddenly threw all his cards on the table.

Violently, Optimus yelled up towards the sky so that his voice would carry far, one that had been used to command armies on a battlefield. Should the femme in question be where her phone indicated she may be, there was no doubt she would hear the single worded summon to call her forth, even if she had moved outside the calculated range since he arrived.

"DART!"

[Dart]

Water tumbled down the rock face and into a clear, cold pool. At the point of impact, it frothed and bubbled. Glittering droplets flung themselves into the cool morning air and then fell back into the expanse of water below. A grey jay hopped along a green fir branch and called hoarsely out over the water, tilting its head back and forth as if it was trying to figure out a way to steal the shiny sparkles of liquid. Then it jumped into the air, silvered wings flapping as it flew towards the still edge of the basin, the smooth river stones beneath it giving way to moss and ferns that then gave way to the dark barked towering trees and heavy, thick loam that pathed the spaces between them.

In the quiet shadows between the huge firs, a doe slipped through, followed by her dappled fawn. The two creatures blended easily into the myriad of browns and tans as they headed carefully down to the water's edge to daintily sip at the cold water.

As they drank, Dart lifted her nose into the air to let her olfactory sensors touch on their smell. She was quietly tucked downwind between a tangled mass of tree root and Deer had a specific odor that was hard to explain. It was musky and sweet at the same time, but light and easily overpowered by the scent of foliage and duff. It was a wonderful adaption to an animal whose life often depended on the way leaves moved or the way wind blew.

She sort of was that way herself, so she understood it. Dart chuckled a bit to herself and looked up at the spread of branches overhead. Huh, funny how a place could make you feel small.

The courier liked it like that. It was nice having things in this world that could give a different perspective to her size. Loping through the suburbs was a study in caution; you had to keep an eye out for all the small things that you could cause damage to or trip over. Dart knew the dangers of garbage cans; she'd accidentally stumbled over a bunch of bins on an early morning and had a moment of sheer terror when a window in one of the small, cookie-cutter style homes had been flung open. Luckily for everyone involved, the elderly homeowner hadn't put on her glasses, and Dart had merely been yelled at like every other raccoon that had dared to rummage through her curbside offerings of delicious, delicious trash.

Right as she remembered that particular yell, the thundering summons of her name roared through the trees.

The deer spun and fled back into the forest. Their panic echoed her panic, Dart spooked and turned to run before she could even comprehend she was running. In her scramble, the femme's weight came down on a slick mess of ferns and wet logs. Her speed was enough to dig a deep gouge in the mud and send her to her knees. Dart threw her hands out to catch herself. Dark dirt ploughed up through her fingers and put one more stain onto the duct tape layered around her wrist and forearm.

The courier scrambled to her feet, shedding mud and greenery. Her slanted blue optics were wide as she went stock still, except for the twitching of her spoiler. The tips rose and fell as she suddenly drew in a deep gulp of air, trying to fight down the wave of panic that welled up in her chest.

Her first instinct was to turn and run, to bolt and duck between the giant firs until she was deep within the forest, to put distance and space between her and whomever was yelling for her. Who would be calling her out here? Why would they be calling?

However, when her brain caught up, it did so with utter shock, because-

She'd heard that voice before.

Usually it was Dart's nose that brought all the world's pictures and memories into her head, but this time, the voice was so recognizable, so distinctive. The deep timbre, and heavy, rich tone, the way words rolled out from within a broad chest and shoulders that carried the weight of worlds on them. Dusty stones in the blazing hot sun. A mechanical dog, his bright yellow eyes and wide grin, and his officer partner, who- well... wasn't nice. That was putting it lightly. The jet mech with them had seemed a bit taken aback by everything that had happened. At least he hadn't wanted to kill her, which was nice. She appreciated that sort of thing to the bottom of her soul.

But- but why would the Prime be here? Why would he be in the middle of a Pacific Northwest forest, and why would he be yelling her name?

Dart's spoiler twitched nervously, and she hastily looked around her. A bird flicked overhead, there was the slight hum of insects. Okay, okay, she wasn't in the simulation. It had become a nervous habit of hers lately; double checking that she was on Earth, in the here and now. So yes, she was, and-

It could still be a trap. For all she knew someone was out there with a Dumb Decepticon Duck call and a robot-flavored shotgun.

Or-- or it was real. And if it was real... well, her heart didn't dare to hope that.

The courier took a deep pull of the air, trying to pick up any single molecule of scent and test which way the wind was coming from. Then with an unsure noise in her throat, she pointed herself into it so she could hopefully catch a whiff of anything besides the Autobot leader. Cautiously, she took a step forward, and then another, before slipping through the trees and trotting quickly through the woods towards the source of the sound.

[Optimus Prime]

It is as his echoed voice faded, that the real danger came into play.


There was no saying who Dart was. It could be a real name to a real individual, said name either truly being them, or another using said familiarity to gain a sense of trust somehow... or it could be a completely fabricated and coincidental overlap. Optimus had his suspicions, certain tells leading a rather linear path to an end goal, yet that was reliant entirely on a verbal description of how one carried themselves, and the naming traditions of a world that now lay in ash. There was a sense of confidence in play with guessing who Dart was, and yet, there was even more of a wildcard atop it.

That she had a message from someone else to pass on.

Who was this unknown party? If the situation wasn't hazardous already, this parameter changed everything to a possibly lethal edge. While he wouldn't go down without a fight, he was still injured from his confrontation with Starscream and the two Decepticons that served him.

This fact was plainly written across his frame.

The Prime's left shoulder paneling was cratered in hard indents and gouges that revealed large patches of raw metal beneath, its smooth compound curve nothing but a ragged shadow of what it once was. One of the side flares that once adorned its surface was wrenched down at a sharp angle towards the lower edge of the assembly, while the other that mirrored it had its end crushed in. Paired with this destruction was a line that cored through said shoulder armor as well, creating a shallow trench that streaked down to what of his upper arm was exposed, leaving a line across that as well. While horrible looking, the shoulder armor had served its core purpose, protecting the major hinge beneath and its bulk protecting his helm. It just wasn't cleaned up in full, repairing only what was fundamentally required.

Other marks were present, though did not hold the same visual impact as the mangled pauldron. Sharp cuts and speckles traveled a linear path from his front to back, lines from shrapnel that blasted past his frame in multiple scattered bits... they seemed random in pattern from their source, though one injury seemed more purposeful and recognizable for what it was. Four lines hooked around Optimus's mid torso, starting from the front of his makeshift ribcage, around to the back before stopping, exposing dull silver beneath chrome and red.

Despite the traumas some of his armor took, Optimus' showed no sign of it affecting him in any way. He stood with a strong stance, shoulders back and helm high, listening carefully as everything settled back down into the natural noises of the remote region. He briefly considered if his action was one made too hastily in the moment, however his logic for doing so was sound, and he felt as though he didn't have much of a choice given just how vast and dense everything was.

Rustled trees... birds resuming their lives after the random outburst of sound... in the distance Optimus thought he heard something that seemed amiss from the surroundings, potentially the target for this little discussion, and as such he responded preemptively.

With a short clicking of transformation, Optimus' right forearm flared out with a pulse, swiftly replacing his wrist and hand with a double-edged sword that remained pointed down towards the mossy earth.

With the way his frame stood, should this individual come from the direction he thought they may be, then the sword would be on the opposite side of his mass to try to hide it. The purpose of this action was done both to protect himself, as well as whoever may be coming. If it was the Dart he imagined, then having the blade tucked away would have less chance of spooking her or making her then feel the need to protect herself and lash out. If it was an unknown stranger however that meant to ambush him? Then he would already have his weapon drawn and could react with far more haste to counter whatever could push through the dense overgrowth.

While Optimus' focus primarily angled towards the faint source of noise he believed he heard, it didn’t blind him to all that lay around. He wanted to listen for any additional footfalls or even a muffled noise of a Space Bridge opening a couple miles out to deposit someone in turn. There were also aerial noises to be aware of, though that wasn't as big of a concern given the foliage above.

Sharp cyan optics flicked across what lay before him, knowing a darker colored individual would see him well before he could ever see them.

[Dart]

The mech's odor was so out of the place that it felt almost as if it had physical substance. Metallic and heavy, it drifted thickly between the tree trunks, filtering through the fir needles. Dart paused and lifted her nose, turning her head back and forth into the air currents. Her olfactory sensors took it all in as she shifted her weight from foot to foot. She took another deep gulp of the air. Normally something like this would have sent her hurriedly putting some distance between herself and whatever (or whomever) was around, but this scent hit her with utter recognition.

It was warm, for lack of a better way to describe it. She'd struggled with it for a while ever since they'd met, and she couldn't put her finger on what it reminded her on until today. The desert had been so dry, so empty, it had created a starkness of scent. Here though, against the clean crisp backdrop of the woods, laced among the damp soil and towering pines it mellowed and softened, came to the forefront and gently nudged her holey brain into recognition.

Pipe tobacco....?

Not the nasty cheap sort that some humans smoked simply because they wanted to look cool, but the kind that belonged in old basement research libraries, from an older professor who was pouring carefully over ancient texts. Which felt like a very disrespectful thing to equate with the leader of the Autobots, a mech who had been around since humans were just barely a blip on Earth's surface, but there it was. You really didn't have much control over what sort of things smells reminded you of. Reactions like that were so intertwined that you just respected it was weird and let it go on its way.

Yes, she had heard his voice, but Dart had learned the very hard way that voices could be imitated, especially in a mechanical world. However, odor was incredibly difficult to fake. The nuances it held were so delicate, even the smallest of changes could warn you of massive differences.

It- it is The Prime, her nose reassured her brain, and that was both strangely reassuring and also utterly terrifying.

Reassuring that there appeared to be no one else in the vicinity. He seemed to be by himself, at least that's what scent was telling her.

Terrifying that the Autobot leader was alone and roaring out her name like someone calling a dog in to demand an explanation about a mess on the carpet. Oh boy. That- that probably wasn't good, and that was also probably an incredible understatement.

How did he know I was here? Who- who would know that, and why would they even tell him.

A thousand thoughts went through, of all the people she knew, all the mechs she knew that might have a line to the Prime. Raf, of course. Max, absolutely...

The points of metal behind her shoulders flicked back and forward, betraying her nervousness.

With a soft puff of air, Dart's shoulders went back slightly. Her slanted blue optics glanced around the thick, quiet forest one more time before she picked her way quietly through the trees, careful to keep her hands down open at her sides. Keeping her nose in the air currents, she followed the trail of the mech's scent, picking her way over the loam and fallen pine needles until she spotted a flash of red and blue standing out among the dull browns and greens. She was downwind from him, but she had no doubt he knew she was there. Her own systems didn't work like a lot of theirs did. She'd heard folks discuss fields and scanners, but no, she was absolutely blank when it came to that sort of thing. Everything depended on her natural senses.

Oh man, this may be one of the stupidest things I've ever done lately. Er, lately. Because I've done a lot of stupid things over my life.

With a deep gulp of air, Dart picked her way carefully out of the safety of the trees, coming to a stop in an open clearing. Clumps of salal rustled around her ankles as she shifted her weight and slid a foot slightly behind her, bracing herself to frantically leap in any direction and run if she needed to. A tiny nervous noise worked out of her chest, but she was careful to drop her hands to her sides, her fingers spread. Her main pump was racing.

This could be a trap. It could be the worst trap. But- but if it's not...

That part of her that had carried her messages needed to give it. It was how it worked. She could no more ignore and avoid it than an ancient postman doing their rounds, you put the letter in the box. It had to get there. Rain or sleet or laser beams, it had to go to where it needed to be, and she had to make sure it did.

Instinctive as her sniffing the air, as instinctive as her joy of running.

"Sir?" she called softly, and was embarrassed by the small crack of her voice.

[Optimus Prime]

Movement.

Optimus's gaze was focused on the point he saw, noting that someone was indeed drawing near, yet he couldn’t afford to be blind to all else around him in the process. He was alert, trying to pick up on if a similar noise was coming from a different angle. To pair with this, the mechanics in his right forearm almost seemed to twist and constrict, a sort of tightening of the grip on the double-bladed sword that had so easily taken countless lives. He was not going to become another death in this war, simply because he focused too hard upon one singular spot.

Then she emerged.

Upon seeing that this Dart was the Dart he recalled, and not a different individual with the same name, Optimus's helm rose, looking down upon the meek femme with a sort of judgmental gaze that threatened to bore right through her. On a deep level he had hoped that it had been a case of mistaken identity, that it was a different individual that wished to speak about MECH... and while such a thing was somewhat true given the fact that she carried a message from an unknown third, it also brought with it great concerns given their previous discussions that had been handled improperly in the past on his part.

The temporary fall of a soldier. Torn from this world to another through deception and uncertain means. A strange threat from a planet long buried in ash, seeking a host to carry itself from void to forefront. The idea that this individual, or... group... or whatever it may be, could be intertwined with MECH given what Rafael spoke of, was an absolute worst-case scenario. Two unknown dangers colliding together to manifest an alliance of some demented kind. A shadow assisting the bloodthirsty monsters of this planet to feed their insatiable hunger for technological advancement in trade for a body that could be claimed and used. A target... a victim... shackled before anyone ever knew they arrived to Earth.

Optimus's jaw tightened from this, a stern silence dragging on as he chewed through these thoughts and further connotations that surged to light. His processor instantly linked back to a certain soul that fell to the wayside among all the smoke and distractions. A mech who's ailment was diagnosed as being a plague from one type of parasite, only to now potentially be a different corruption altogether that hadn't been associated in any way whatsoever. Lost. Too late. Too slow. Too far from the line. Too short sighted... too... foolish...

Two pieces of a puzzle on opposite ends of the table that were meant to link up together all this time.

Right in front of his face.

Deep down subconsciously he had wished... HOPED... this femme was someone else. For this binding rope to not be a thing at all. Not wanting these incidents to be related. There was no level of praying and pleading that could ever change this course however. No amount of inner will would undo what had just been done in these fractured seconds once two gazes met one another. It was what it was, and things had to be addressed in the now rather than getting snagged and hooked up on what could have been, what may have been... and who it could have saved from perpetual darkness and unknown suffering.

Should it be what he now considered it to be, then time was truly ticking past, and things would only get worse with every passing second.

"I believe you have a message for me."

There were no fluctuations in Optimus' voice. Nothing. A straight to the point monotone, saying each word with a stiff edge as if he was biting back more aggressive comments or questions that he wanted to shove out at the dirt coated femme. To pair with this statement, the sound of transformation cut out into the small clearing, the long sword that had been drawn and hidden behind his leg splitting apart and hooking back within his forearm. As this weapon sheathed, and his hand manifested once more, Optimus' stance would turn and square off properly, his fingertips splaying a second after being produced, before the limb loosely held down at his side in an inert state.

Nothing more was said.

The ball was in Dart's court, and she would not be guided.

[Dart]

The Prime. Imposing as he ever was, a tall, solid, wide-shouldered mech. He was standing solidly among the trees and the woods, so utterly out of place against the living green of the woods. The scent of crushed fern and decaying leaves eddied around him and touched her intakes along with the scent of the mech. He somehow felt more massive than the last time she'd seen him, or maybe that was because he was among the the rough trunks of the pines and not against the great expanse of the desert stones and pale morning sky.

He also had been in an obviously terrible fight since then. Dart did not remember any of these marks on him before, and she knew they would have been something she remembered. Around Pyrotech, she'd learned to keep an eye out for new scars that appeared on those in his service, and try to make herself as scarce as was possibly allowed. Not that it helped often, but she'd take even once in a while.

When she'd seen him last time, the Autobot leader had scrapes and repairs in his plating, but nothing like this. Shoulder smashed so badly that the red turned into silver. There was a terrible line that tore with it and ran down to his forearm. It appeared to be the worst of his damage, but his entire body showed a terrible graph of whatever conflict had happened to him. He looked as if he'd been hit from all sides.

Yet he was still standing here firmly and quietly, looking down at her. Someone out there had gotten the worst of that fight. No doubt someone at the outpost back in Oregon was regretting their life choices.

Assuming they were still alive, which was a terribly big assumption especially with the huge sword he held. It was pointed at the ground right now, which she was incredibly grateful for.

Oh boy. Please don't let my knees shake...

Dart dug her heels into the loam beneath her, feeling the forest floor move and shift under her feet.

Her spoiler chattered instead, the strip of metal across her shoulder twitching. As he put away his sword and asked her the question, she took a deep pull of air and nodded.

Her hand came up, and started to touch her ruined Decepticon sigil in an automatic salute. Then she realized how awkward that was to touch that purple paint to the Autobot leader and hesitated, her hand half-extended in front of her narrow chest. The tips of her spoiler lifted and pricked forward, and then sloped in an apologetic line as she brought her hand up to touch the brim of her helm before she dropped it back to her side. The duct tape around her forearm fluttered, starting to unravel from weather and dirt.

"Yes sir, a message. It's about MECH."

Dart lifted her nose into the air slightly. The faintest hint of an odor drew her attention one touch among all the other touches that made up the Prime.

"Did- Did Raf tell you, sir?"

[Optimus Prime]

While Optimus involuntarily changed appearances and tolerance levels, to the point he held himself in a relatively more confrontive standing against the femme, Dart in contrast appeared to be the same subdued individual he recalled. With a little makeshift bandaging slapped on top. The way she moved, the nervous twitches of her spoiler as it crooked and adapted... almost acting as a marker that seemed to dictate a change of thought or consideration in the way it paired with her expressions. While he was certain Rafael did not see this Dart, body language crossed that digital line to projected forms, and he could understand how she could be so disarming to a point that faction lines meant so little.

It had also thrown him off balance upon their first meeting.

Now knowing that she was a true sprinter, a term barely strong enough to apply to what he saw, Optimus took a second to consider details differently, noting the lack of visible wheels that'd act as air drag, and other physical traits that should have been a marker to clue him off from the very onset. It was another piece of evidence showing how scattered his thoughts were back then. In the end, it didn't matter, as even if she had a large sign that said she was capable of such feats, it would have changed nothing at all in their previous meetings other than removing that flicker of confused shock upon seeing what must have been her rocketing through the tree line.

Cyan optics flicked down as Dart started to move to touch the sigil on her chest, watching the way she seemed to catch onto the issue just in time so that she could divert it into a more universally recognized motion. If she had completed the prior act, he wouldn't have brought attention to it, for it was irrelevant and the sentiment behind it was the same. It wasn't as though she were mockingly tapping it while saying something defiant. As such, it was cast aside as quickly as the motion concluded and her arm dropped back down.

"Did- Did Raf tell you, sir?"

"Yes."

A simple word said with a sort of decisive punctuation to it that could almost come off as aggressive in a way. There was no true hostility, no growl behind his voice, no expression besides the focus he offered her in the now that he did in days past. While the warmth his words and body language once held was stifled, he did not feel any malice to Dart personally, it was more a generalized irritation. Whatever the case, the broad net of his awareness around him would pull in tighter. Not so much so as to become vulnerable if someone were to approach at his side, though he reeled most everything in to Dart, and only Dart.

He wanted to absorb every flicker of what came next.

"I wish to hear it in your own words."

A game of telephone was just that, and there was a reason that things got distorted the longer the chain got. Optimus knew Rafael passed on what he was told. He wasn't doubting him and did truly believe he was reliable on such things. What the child couldn’t do, however, is replicate the exact words verbatim, emulate the tones, and convey physical motions that could come with them all at once into one cohesive picture. No... Rafael told him WHAT she had said, but he wanted to see HOW Dart would say it herself, so he could come to his own considerations on her validity.

[Dart]

The tips of Dart's spoilers inched forward over her shoulders. She shifted her weight slightly and nervously from one foot to the other.

Couriers were good at one thing. Well, maybe she shouldn't be speaking for all couriers, but Dart was good at that thing, which was bringing someone a message word for word as it had been given to her. Her job was to simply to be a long-legged, nervous telephone. She was an agent for the delivery of data or small items, nothing more. Dart's own thoughts and feelings about what she was relaying were merely tucked into her head and she made sure they never, ever came back out. At least not when she was around anyone of any importance.

Especially those in command.

However, the Prime had come here into the wilderness to look for her. It was a place where most Cybertronians didn't dare go. So many mechs she knew were uncomfortable in the wild spaces of Earth. The human cities might have been alien slums to them, but forests were something else. They were organic and living, with scents and sounds that were unlike anything most of them had ever seen or had to deal with. It was as alien and dangerous to them as Cybertron itself was to her. At least the Cybertron Axon had been sharing with her within the boundaries of the simulation.

Automatically, Dart lifted her nose again for another wary sniff. There was was no one else here that she could smell or sense. The Prime was flat out trusting that she was by herself, and that she hadn't called him in to her fellow Decepticons the moment she'd seen him. Not that she could have. Her comm was on the fritz again, as it often was.

A small tilt of her head as he spoke.

A scrub jay cawed somewhere above them, chattering and chittering at the strange metallic things within its territory. Nearby, the constant tumble and fall of water rumbled softly through the trees.

"My own words," she repeated to the broad mech across the clearing from her before she carefully tucked her hands to the small of her back. "I'm sorry, I- I'm not used to that. I mean, most people don't want my words, they- they want other people's words, sir."

But I'll try my best."

Dart lifted her nose and pulled air into her intakes past her olfactory sensors. She held onto it for a moment, turning over all the scents of Earth. Forest and plant, the sharp wet tang of crushed plants. Her slanted blue optics dimmed slightly in thought as she turned over what to say the same way she turned over the scents of the world around her; follow a thread, take a trail and keep focused on where it led.

"They've been quiet, sir. MECH, I mean," she said quietly after a moment. Her fingers laced behind her back, clasping tighter. She could feel the fabric tape around her forearm flex over the damage there.

The Prime probably knew everything she was about to say. He had mechs that found him this information, and she trusted that Raf had told him all these things as well... but he had asked her to say it.

"They're not gone though," she continued.

"They're skirmishing here and there, testing us, learning about us and what we can do. They're human and I know that sometimes a lot of Cybertronians underestimate anything human. But that's the very dangerous part, sir. They're making leaps and bounds, adapting their techniques. Building things that can maximize the danger to our physiology, and our neural nets. They're making things that can target us, target and ID our specific Cybertronian radar profiles. Weapons that can go through our armor and with each one of us they hurt, or- or kill? It becomes more and more reliable."

"They're working on things. Viruses that disrupt our systems, or... or destroy blocks of our brain core."

She hesitated, because no matter how many times she said it, it still was way, way too personal.

[Optimus Prime]

Dart effectively said the same as Rafael, which was to be expected. The young human would no doubt have been quite careful in conveying something of such importance, not perceived as the type to condense or cast out things that he himself may have thought were useless, though it did not hurt to double up. The content wasn't the focus however, it was more an added bonus atop what he was actually trying to observe, his sharp gaze watched the way she carried herself during her explanation from her own perspective, which evidently was a seldom asked angle. Just as Rafael could spin things in his own words that could miss out on important information, in this situation Dart must have known more than the message itself would encapsulate.

There could potentially be hinted elements the original sender may not have intended to be said aloud.

Whatever the case, some of what was passed on had been already confirmed and experienced in some form or another by his own soldiers out in the field, while other pieces were fears that could be coming to light as more than just ghosted thoughts at the back of his mind. He did not wish to hear of the latter, and while ignorance would have brought comfort, saving him from that much more stress that would be dropped down upon his straining spine, it needed to be known so that they were able to properly prepare for it. Only... how could someone do so? Without a legitimate sample of what angle they were coming from, a broad concept of 'hide signals' or 'strengthen a form of mental firewall', was as impossible as it was easy to say.

They already knew the results of it. How useless they were to reverse it. How he couldn't help Ai-

Optimus was facing a weapon that he currently had no proper way to defend against other than avoidance, which wasn't even remotely a possible goal. His Autobots, and the Decepticons, WOULD cross paths with it, and if they were not prepared, then it would only embolden and strengthen what power MECH already held. Humanity was dangerous, not only due to the fact that many did cast off their intelligence as being 'inferior', but due to the profound speed in which they worked and their total lack of regard for seeing Cybertronian as living entities rather than thinking weapons.

Humanity lived very short lives, so their progress wasn’t a steady trudge onward, it was a sprint so that they could bask in their own accomplishments.

With all the overlapping facts between incidents with MECH, it would be so easy to take what the femme before him was saying as law, though that was the mindset of a fool, and he would not be thrown off course. Did he believe her? Yes. What she said and the way Dart moved did not betray any true malice that he could sense. She seemed passive and meek, mindful of her actions such as catching her 'improper' salute earlier, while displaying nervous motions of external paneling twitching that would be so difficult to falsify. Could she be profoundly skilled at lying? Of course. Did he feel she was at this juncture? No.

While he had numerous questions, many of which he had lined up to shortly follow, one stood out front and center with great importance.

"How did you learn this information."

Another clipped approach, continuing to lack an inflection at the end to be almost aggressively direct. Beyond this, he seemed inert with his lack of real reactions or physical tells that could betray just how unsettled this news made him, stifling it down with a hope that nothing he did would influence Dart too far in one direction or another.

[Dart]

How did you learn this. 

His question was straightforward. 

Whoo boy. How did I learn this?

That was a tough question to answer, because on one hand, it was pretty straightforward. On the other, it was anything but. Dart's whole understanding of Cybertron and what it had become had taken a very sharp angle in the last few months. She had a hole in her head now that attested to that, as well as so many other things that had happened to her recently.

However, she knew Earth. She took the time to listen, to learn about the world. The thing about it was that it was always changing, never static. A forest was not a desert was not the mountains, and that was - well, that was like humans. One was not the other, and the differences between the people here were like that. She felt she at least had that grasp on who they were as a species. Cybertronians tended to dismiss the abilities of others around them. She'd always thought maybe that was just a Decepticon thing; Dart knew so many of those around her were driven relentlessly by their ego, by their need to be on top of the pile. Anything beneath them was simply that- beneath them. It didn't matter who or what it was or even where it was. If it was in their way, it was an obstacle to get past.

Some Autobots were like that too, she'd learned. Which she understood of course. Everyone was an individual, but she genuinely tended to think most Autobots were pretty decent sorts. Sure, they were often condesending to non-Cybertronians but most of them did not want to cause collateral damage to beings or wildlife. Some of them did want to control minds, but that was also an outlier. Er, not the ones they were trying to force to work for them, not that kind of outlier. She'd learned a lot of new terms recently. Outlier was one of them.

All the moments of that place - a sidestep within your mind, a reality that was as real as the sound of the wind, the smell of the forest, and the shadow of wounded Autobot leader standing before her.


"A friend of mine," Dart replied. "He's been here a while, sir. On Earth, I mean, but-- uh, he's not affiliated with anyone."

There was a quick twitch of the tips of her spoiler before they splayed out slightly as she looked up at the Prime. "He's not part of the war, you know?"

[Optimus Prime]

When it came to the war, Autobots and Decepticons tended to have their teeth bared at one another, while those around them were generally disregarded and unseen on the sidelines. So long as an individual didn't mess with them, there was a good chance that they would be too busy snapping at one another to feel the need to interfere, that is if they even saw the third party to begin with. It could almost be called a contained ecosystem in a way, where there were laws such as rain being a thing, or that the sun provided light, yet there was little control over just where or when it may occur. Those who walked within this ring followed the same paths, where a simple brand of one side or another could lay down a strong framework in which to view the rest of a discussion or interaction. To hear that Dart's source was not a part of this?

To be unaffiliated in the war, turned a sliding grayscale into full color.

Unpredictable.

However, there were already clues.

Whoever they were, were close enough to Dart that she called them a friend with seemingly no sense of strain or forced awkwardness in tone. Not a boss, nor an employee, nor even just an equal, but a friend, which should not be overlooked. It could be argued this could place them in favor of the Decepticons, yet that was a stretch taken by those who only saw in absolutes, especially when one considered how atypical she was to begin with. As was always the case, it could still be a front, no matter their interactions or how she carried herself, at the end of the day Dart could be weaving her own game, though it would require profound skill in acting to uphold long-term, which was one thing to do against one of their own, while it would be another to do so to another species.

Rafael was a clever soul, one who not only heard Bumblebee speak and could somehow piece together the language enough to understand, as well as read their code to an extent, yet hadn't been able to recognize a Cybertronian until it may have been too late. It could be spun as the naivety of a child wanting to believe in others, yet Optimus saw it a different way. For Dart to have tricked him that well, there was a keen eye for how to emulate a human to the finest of points no outsider would ever know to even be aware of. So, it brought to the forefront a simple question.

Who did she learn that from?

It would be so incredibly easy for most to automatically assume 'he' was a substitute for 'mech', when there was nothing framing her friend as being Cybertronian at all. Being here for a while could just as easily mean being born on this world, just as not being affiliated with the war, could be a simple statement of fact that his species was never tied to it to begin with. Her friend could just as easily be human, which then brought to question how he would know of MECH then, whether he was a part of that group itself, part of the government, or even part of another agency that would have the needed intel to be privy to it all.

The mystery individual could certainly be a Cybertronian. Optimus knew many of their kind still roamed the stars, seeking any stretch of space away from the bloodshed brought from what was effectively the petty ripples of a war long won... and as such, her friend did not need to be something so convoluted as another species of life altogether. It was but one spin on a situation where everything was finely combed through for answers with as little bloat or oversight as possible. Not letting himself be blinded by prejudice or assumptions.

He could so very easily ask who they were affiliated with, or if they were even Cybertronian at all, or even something as frivolously useless at this point such as a name... however, at this juncture it was hollow questioning for things that didn't matter initially and could be gotten to if it was even relevant later on, when only one question was pertinent right up front.

"What makes his insight reputable."

[Dart]

Dart hesitated.

"Well, he's not part of the Decepticons, sir," she said finally. "He left Cybertron right as the war broke out, I think."

She briefly glanced down at her tattered sigil again. "I guess that makes him more reputable than me."

A small, lopsided smile quirked the corner of her mouth before she quickly ducked her head, the brim of her helmet shadowing her gaze. Her sense of humor probably wasn't appropriate but it tended to be that place she retreated to when she was scared, and right now, Dart was utterly terrified. Not so much because of the Prime. If he'd wanted to kill her, he could have easily done it that day when she'd been stuck under the rock. She wasn't worried about that at all. She was worried about her fellow Decepticons and she couldn't help but feel just saying the name of her faction would draw them right to them somehow.

Like some weird comedy horror moment. Decepticons, Decepticons, Betelgeuse.

Dart shook her head to get that out of it. Human movie moments, another entirely useless bit of knowledge she had tucked away in that empty head of hers. It was a pretty fun movie though. She'd enjoyed it. Not as much as Raiders of the Lost Ark, but nothing topped that one. 

"Other than that, though? I have to be absolutely honest with you, sir. There's nothing that I could say to you that probably makes his insight reputable, except that well, that he's lived among humans longer than most of us have here. On Earth."

The courier shifted her weight over her toes, her slim frame hazy with scratches and road dirt. Her hands dropped from behind her back and came up in front of her, her fingers earnestly framing her words. Her spoiler twitched and flicked, pricking forward as she looked up at Optimus again. Slanted blue optics met the Prime's, but it was nervous and only for the briefest of moments before she looked off to the woods around them. Her intakes drew in a deep pull of air into into her systems in an effort to help regulate them.

"Like- I know a lot about being human- about humans, sir, and I respect them - who they are, what they're absolutely, amazingly capable of."

Which was the truth. She did. Dart figured a lot of it was because of her lack of memory. For a Cybertronian, she was for all intents and purposes younger than a whole lot of the humans she quietly listened to. They changed so quickly, learned so much so rapidly. Organic beings lived short lives compared to Cybertronians, and didn't have millions of years under them. Their lives were such that every single day held new experiences, new moments. They were constantly adapting to the world around them and that was the thing she related to deeply. Her days were full of the same. Everything around her in the wilderness was new and different, and in the cities and towns the world was constantly changing.

"But not like the way my friend does. He deals with them in ways I wouldn't even know how. Money. News. Government Contacts. That sort of thing."

[Optimus Prime]

Ah, so this individual was a Cybertronian.

To be on Earth long before the Decepticons and Autobots had arrived themselves, made Optimus think about those who initially ventured into the darkest corners of space to plant Energon so that it could be harvested in the future. No matter the allegiance, their ambitions would better their people as a whole, trying to build up some sort of resource that could keep their species functional well after their planet had gone dark. He doubted this soul was one of those however, for most had already carved their lines in the dirt by the point each faction ordered those missions, yet that didn't mean an independent wouldn't have the same thought process in order to survive. If they had lingered on this planet, adapting to different eras and growing with humanity's evolution, then they certainly would know far more than even many humans themselves would due to witnessing it firsthand.

Whatever the case, Dart's quiet joke fell flat, Optimus showing no sign of humor or even recognition of the gentle mockery at other Decepticons and her allegiance to them. He understood the clichés in place and the lopsided perspectives that demonized both. Decepticons being murderous psychopaths that were incapable of telling anything but falsehoods, while Autobots were sentimental cowards fighting to suppress those who rose up to silence their voices once again. Both statements were wrong, and while someone in his position may have smirked, he simply had no care to offer it, more focused on what followed.

There was something to be said about someone who did not try to convince, and instead gave up and admitted that words would be useless in a topic of this nature. Which was true. Little could have made Optimus trust her friend on any real level, and this recognition spoke volumes. Because of this, Dart had earned points on her own scale, for she didn't try to sway his opinion with zeal, and instead accepted the frivolity of it, continuing to articulate things her friend knew and just how he may have known them to begin with.

"Is he incapable of reaching out himself."

Having Dart relay a message must have had a better chance of being passed over for one reason or another, however, if this mystery soul did have contacts high enough on the ladder that they knew things about MECH that Fowler hadn't even mentioned to them, then there was a chance they could have handled it themselves to contact Omega One. To go through Dart added another layer to it, risking it looking less reputable due to the fact it went through the mouth of an individual who was tied to an enemy faction. THE enemy faction. Optimus was missing something here, yet it could be as simple as there being a metaphorical block wall somewhere along the way that made reaching out difficult.

Or they were hiding.

Using another as a filter could make linking back to the source difficult should said filter decide to not cooperate. There were means of interrogation for sure, even more so with possible elements sitting at the horizon line he wanted to seek out... yet... it wasn't a path Optimus was keen to walk down.

Though protecting the lives of all his Autobots often pushed him to make choices he did not favor.

"I wish to speak to him myself."

Cutting and once more to the point. Just as he didn't wish to solely rely on Rafael being able to translate and pass on messages, he didn't feel particularly keen to rely on Dart exclusively. It was a game of telephone and by participating in such a chain it could leave out the most subtle of details that in the end could be catastrophically important. A hidden gem within a sea of bloat that was missed by someone through the line. No. He couldn't afford such risks.

[Dart]

Dart nodded.

"When I see him next, I will absolutely bring him the message that you would like to talk to him in person," she said without any hesitation. "I just- I don't see him as often in person as I did before I got assigned back to the States, so it might be a while."

Which was true. She'd had so much more freedom in Australia then she did here. Even though her patrol routes were in the middle of nowhere in Oregon and she'd had very little contact with her fellow Decepticons (well, before they'd crashed a ship into the ocean) Pyrotech had become far more neurotic about every single thing. If you said you were in a place at a time, you better be at that place at that time. Maybe that wasn't the right term to use. He'd always been tight with his crew, holding onto reins with an iron fist and controlling everything he could to keep to make sure his assigned tasks were done exactly as he had planned them out to the minute detail.

It had been far easier to sneak off in Australia, but she'd been motivated by other things on top of just wanting to stay out of Pyrotech's way.

Having the other Decepticons come to the outpost had strangely given her more time to herself. Her commander had other worries, and for once she wasn't on his list of problems and frustrations. Dart was grateful for that.

The courier blew out a small puff of air from the corner of her lips.

Then she shook her head. "It's just- ah, outside, non faction things became a mess lately, and he's been dealing with that."

The moment after she said it, Dart realized how weird that had to sound. It was pretty awful, as if it was some oh so important mysterious moment in a book where the author pushed a narrative so that the secret spy was even more secret but obviously so. Yet talking about Soma felt like that- that you better keep your mouth shut and not even mention his name in case he had someone under his control around the next corner.

Every time she turned around, it felt as if there was another mech, another soul that was like that.

"I'm sorry. I know that that probably doesn't make much sense."

Heck, it didn't make sense to her and she was living it lately. She'd done so much recently she'd started to feel like there was no gap between the real world and the one Soma had created. It was blending like a blur on the road, like when you were running and the yellow lines turned solid with speed.

"But even though I don't have the human contacts like him, I know I do feel the same about MECH and the humans that he does."

[Optimus Prime]

When Dart mentioned that it could be some time before she could relay her message, Optimus' brows would furrow ever so slightly further.

"Define a while."

Were they looking at a couple of weeks? Or a couple of years? Given their profound lifespans, for all he knew it could be even longer than that, creating a long void of time of hearing nothing that comparably would be a blink versus their entire existence. If he was going to be forced to wait things out to be able to ask more direct questions, such as just how the mech came to know of the information he had, it would soothe his stressed mind if he knew he needed to just set it aside to focus more upon primary events and what he now knew on surface levels alone.

"It's just- ah, outside, non faction things became a mess lately, and he's been dealing with that."

"Are these conflicts ones that should concern me."

Optimus was not one to pray to Primus or any other entity in lore, yet like many others who lived such a belief, there was that instinctive quiet plead for anyone who may be governing anything to take pity upon him and make it something that did not impact his life, or the lives of his Autobots. He didn't need yet ANOTHER stressor placed upon his shoulders, as he had shown already it was starting to make him crack beneath the pressure to the point that he had lashed out against Wheeljack.

The mech had somehow pressed the wrong button, and he had been reactive enough that he gave in beneath its strain and acted in ways unbecoming of his rank and power. Optimus couldn't afford whatever ailments burdened this unknown party being placed upon him as well simply because he was unfortunate enough to cross his path. This blunt question and underlying dread caused a faint crack of the Prime's stern expression, the smallest glimmers of raw exhaustion showing itself before he steeled once again.

As Dart declared that her comment didn't make much sense, Optimus internally questioned just why she may have felt such a thing. Many others had their own lives, their own dilemmas, and trials. Not all of them were woven together into the same tapestry of the War, and for her friend to have his own journey? Well, that was expected. To some perhaps it may seem odd, given they lived their entire existence within the great conflict, yet he saw beyond that. So no, it made sense to him, and it made him question just how others had acted in the past for her to believe it didn't. Yet, while they may not have thought alike on that, the other topic that followed was one he did agree with.

"Discrediting the capabilities of other lifeforms is misguided and regretfully common."

It was so easy to look down upon others who were technologically inferior when compared one to one, and it was such misguided concepts that had resulted in the fall of others, and more likely than not would continue to lead to poor outcomes for those who refused to think differently. Optimus recognized as much, as did Dart and her contact, and he hoped others would catch onto this deceptively simple idea rather than letting pride and arrogance dictate all.

"What more do you know of MECH's activities."

A vague question that like the others held very little inflection at the end, hoping that by leaving it open-ended Dart would pick things she felt were truly dangerous or important, rather than him pinpointing a specific element to be focused upon.