We are a literate, intermediate to advanced AU Transformers RPG Based off of the first season of TFP with dashes of other incarnations sprinkled here or there. Characters from any continuity are welcome however must be restyled to match the TFPrime universe.
Active, with ongoing plotlines, we are always willing to integrate new characters into storylines once incorporated into the setting.
Shadowrunner's processor kept running an unconscious tally, weighing good (Cleaver having the sense to get out of the line of fire when asked, Prime's arrival) against likely to override Ironhide's good sense and send this all to the Pit (Megatron, Megatron making sudden moves, Megatron making sudden moves toward Prime). The total she reached suggested that the fewer things setting off Ironhide's Guardian protocols right now, the better.
With that in mind, she commed him, words heavily glyphed with safe/secure/all's well. ::I'm not any use here. I'm going to get myself out of the way.:: She leaned in, a brief brush of her frame against his flared plates, and sent him a quick visual file of where she intended to go, a deep rift in the stone wall which should be close enough to directly behind him to ease his need to protect. She looked at Cleaver, doubting that she'd be able to convince the other femme to withdraw as well, even if she had her comm frequency, and added, ::Cleaver had to know he was here, and she wasn't expecting trouble from him. Everything's fine.:: She forced a soft flick of half-teasing into her field. ::Keep it that way.::
<<OOC: moving Shadow out of the way unless she's needed/directly addressed, so the Plot can proceed>>
Ironhide vented slowly, careful repetitions of system cycles on a slow, rhythmic meter. It didn't actually scale back any of the levels of alert protocols searing through him, but it kept his vents wide and clear. Shadow's presence behind him and her glyphs, steady and warm and above all safe, retreating to a safe position still, eased one of the hot-lit point that his sensors were trained on and he pulsed gratitude and reassurance to her - good-be alert-thank you.
Cleaver's position at his side was another point and he kept sensors and field trained on her, dozens of algorithms plotting probabilities of her location, potential threat angles, and how many he could cover how quickly. Gratitude there, as well, for her movement which had removed one of the worst case scenarios from his queues.
Lastly there was Prime, now standing face to face with Megatron, and that was a threat but a known one - one which, truth be told, he had had to learn to stay out of because they were in a class of their own. At best he could watch, poised and ready if his Prime should need him, sensors trained on every micro movement that might signal anything greater.
"Ain't no one makin' a first move," he told Cleaver softly. "Primus willin', no one will. Believe meh, luv, Ah ain't lookin' to." Truth, every word of it, for what it was worth when he was all but vibrating with the need to watch those three most important points.
Last Edit: Aug 30, 2012 16:57:37 GMT -5 by Deleted
Cleaver took her optics from the situation at the other end of the room to catch Ironhide's, though neither of them could look away for very long. Megatronus had approached Prime with a relieved familiarity that was painful to watch, and though she hadn't heard Optimus's response, it had apparently been shot down immediately after the Autobot Commander's shock had passed.
"High risk part is over," she replied in equally hushed tones, optics narrowing. "They just needs to.... Primus, I don't know.
She glanced to Gasket to check on the peaceful old mech's position, and try to glean his own reaction to the scene.
In those few shared kliks that it took Optimus to arrive Gasket could have pierced the tension with a digit. The response he received from Prime was quick and his words, presumably heard, had no effect on the situation at large. The old bot had no idea if Ironhide would actually shoot first but he'd not be caught off guard. Even as he noticed the burst of tachyons across his sensors indicating a ground bridge and likely the Prime with it he still kept the blade holders open along his legs, ready to draw if the situation demanded it.
A moment later, the red and blue frame appeared and the Prime stepped into the light of the atrium and into direct line of sight of the Cybertronian Warlord. Something about the Prime seemed to calm the situation significantly despite the fact that everyone, Hide to Cleaver to Shadow, was still on edge.
The only one he couldn't read was Megatron. In fact... Gasket's optics trailed back over to Megatron himself. Come to think on it... his EFM is a specter of what it once was.
When Megatron did not reply to the Prime's initial comment with the bravado Gasket expected, rather, calling Optimus brother... then Orion.
Dozens of old memory links fired in his matrix as the old bot allowed himself to lean over onto the bar as the Prime responded again, the massive tie rod blades reattaching to his shins with a clack. The confusion was palpable, in fact the old bot's spark was swamped in it. A glance to the Prime and it merely deepened; the autobot leader look disarmed by mere words.
Am I watching a meeting of warlords... or reliving ancient history?
The situation largely diffused, Gasket watched as the other bots shifted, moved, made the next possible action to either come together or leave entirely. Shadow vanished and Cleaver moved to Hide's side; that was good enough.
Nodding, Gasket pushed himself off from the bar to get back to work but he had to pause. Confusion still overwhelmed him. A glance from Cleaver drew only a nod in her direction as he bent to pick up the piece of sheet metal that had fallen to his pedes only kliks before. There were many questions that he had at the moment but... well, maybe he would get a chance to ask them in the future.
At this moment it was all up to Prime... and Megatronus.
<<OOC: Go ahead and do whatever. Gasket will be continuing his work and merely observing unless you'd like to take it elsewhere or the Prime would motion him to give them some room/time.>>
Last Edit: Aug 30, 2012 21:57:59 GMT -5 by Deleted
Orion had never spoken to him like that before, let alone with a such a seething burst of hot hatred. The shock of it, the sheer weight of it crashing into his armor in a burning wave and getting under his plates, caused Megatronus to jerk with a frown. Several kliks passed as he simply processed the feeling, and then forcibly reminded himself that he was missing four million years of his memory.
And that in that time he and his brother had become enemies of the highest order.
Megatronus had no idea where to start. The enormity of what he was missing, and the alien hostility he was facing in one he called brother, scuppered his usual eloquence.
"You don't understand, Orion," Megatronus replied, raising an empty and placating hand. He felt as much as saw the other mech's twitch at the movement, and stilled again. "Something has happened. I am not your enemy."
He pinged Cleaver with a request to get over and explain the situation, because he sorely doubted that Optimus was going to take his word.
Last Edit: Sept 3, 2012 18:53:19 GMT -5 by Deleted
There was long, long drag of complete silence in which one could hear the subtle click-click noise of engines cooling. Optimus still didn’t move as he stood, optics on Megatron as the other mechanoid called him ‘Orion’ yet again and did damage to the context he’d thought he’d understood coming into this confrontation because it sounded very much like Megatron had no idea who he was. The very idea was staggering again to the point if impossibility – Megatron was compromised. He was damaged, somehow, to the point of complete memory core lock and he was calling him by the honorifics of cohort eons out of cycle. Optimus was not sure what is said about him, that it felt foreign to him.
It’s a trick, said four million years of violence, of war, of backhanded betrayal, agony and genocide. It’s a lie, said every scar, every replaced limb, every dead comrade and massacred Autobot, Neutral, and alien civilian. Shoot him through the head, said tactics, as always, so clear and easy and untouchable. And somewhere, underneath all that, like a ghost there was a data clerk looking up from a console in the ruins of Iacon and he said: It’s Megatronus.
Optimus looked back to Megatron. He closed his optics a moment, cycling down.
“We need to talk.” He opened his optics. “Alone. My name is not Orion Pax. Not anymore. I am Optimus Prime, the commander of the Autobot Army and if you are not here to discuss the Iacon Database, then something has, indeed, happened. Cleaver has no doubt explained this ground is a Neutral DMZ, one you yourself set into place, and as I said it is the first in centuries between our factions. So, if you are here to talk…”
Optimus leveled a look at him, four million years old and older.
“Then I will listen.”
Last Edit: Sept 3, 2012 17:44:23 GMT -5 by Deleted
The tension had become crippling as Megatronus read every terse and tight flare in the other mech's field. Suppressed, but this close and that powerful there was no hiding the conflict. It was a relief when the silence was broken with the nanko-klik hum of a vocaliser composing a phenome, not the whine of a weapon or the air-swish of a punch.
Orion-Optimus, whoever his brother was now, was stepping outside of the paradigm of war that Megatronus could not presently share in. Even if only for a breem, he was going to listen.
Cleaver had not finished crossing the room (in part hindered by Ironhide's unspoken insistence that she stay within reach and behind the wall of his plates) when Megatronus finally spoke.
"I will wait for you."
Then, and only meeting optics with Cleaver in the movement, Megatronus crossed back across the Atrium and made his way back down to the sublevel.