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.
<<Set after "Return to Order", for Kickback and Soundwave.>>
Though Megatron was a commander who knew every plate and rivet in his ship, he did not often descend into these particular cargo bays of the Nemesis. The last time had been when Shockwave had taken up his posting on the Decepticon flagship, bringing additional cargo to what he required in his lab with him.
The cocoon, though still and silent, did not look innocuous. There was an uncanniness to it - in the oily reflections off the opaque panels; the low frequency hum of living stasis; and the powerful sense of something immense being held small and tight. Megatron felt it on a visceral level, circling the pod with critical optics until he returned to the point at which a darkened, Insecticon faceplate stared blindly out.
"Now, Soundwave," he commanded, soft but resonant in the storage room, his gaze unmoving. "Initiate the frequency, so that we may know who we have kept in slumber in our hull."
The comm officer inclined his head slightly, the dim running lights of the cargo bay catching dull against the flat of the mechanoid’s unreadable face. A moment, four-hundred thousand code strings unraveling through the insectional myriad of the carrier’s central processor, the matrix of his neural net snapping the algorithums into their right order – stripping out variable basecodes and overriding defaults.
He inclined his head slightly the other direction.
The pod hissed once, a pattern of seams in the metal splitting slightly, a series of micro-transformations initiating across the shell of the pod and folding back into the body of the vessel. Soundwave turned to look sidelong toward Megatron a single glyph across the shortwave band between them: caution. Then he stepped back again to monitor.
The pod's exterior quarters peeled themselves back, then retracted into the base plate in a snap, the sound mixed with the noise of perfectly fitted metal plates sliding against each other and clicking back into place.
Curled almost into a fetal ball was the mech inside.
His body was almost entirely matte black in coloration making it difficult to determine the precise layout of epidemeral plates and mesh by a quick visual scan, even more so in the areas shadowed by the placement of limbs and curl of torso. Partially cocooning him were reticulated wings, black with sickly yellow-green webbing across the surface in irregular patterns, as if it had been stitched on by a drunken spider.
The Insecticon's EMF enshrouded him like a dark velvet fog, disturbing and alien, operating on frequencies not used by other Cybertronians. It flickered with half-formed phonems resembling a gross mutilation of Primal vernacular and sharply angled glyphs in staccato arrangement. A sonorous buzzing rumble grew from the center of the mech as said field intensified. Purple light traced itself in circuit-like pathways from the core of the Insecticon outward along its skin, energon pushed from the insides out to the limbs in activation.
Optics lit up behind a blood-red visor.
He rose from his crouch.
Powerful legs armed with curved spikes carried him upwards, wings sliding back over narrow hips, thin waist, broad chest and pauldroned shoulders. His plates and vent-spiracles stretched, flared and straightened, languorous motions ostensibly brought on by the length of his stasis. A second set of arms uncurled from behind him, rising over his shoulders, claws stretching. His wings followed afterwards, and soon he was the tallest creature in the room by virtue of those appendages alone.
He lowered and folded his wings and secondary arms, looking at Megatron at eye height, then down slightly to Soundwave.
"\-| ;:' ^,/{ ~"" +'\.\-," he said to both of them.
Soundwave didn’t say it so much as transmit the Insecticon sub-sonics, the bladed edges of his frame humming slightly with the dialect, tri-tone inflected and emotionally unreadable. The grammatical branch he used was more South Helex shorthand than what Kickback was using, but Soundwave – as he was wont to do – didn’t seem to care. His meaning was clear: ‘Speak standard Neocybex.’ There was a flicker, the EM wobble of a scan though persona electromagnetics and a green diagram of the new Con’s vitals blinked across the comm officer’s face – neural net activity (middling), energy levels (low), damage estimates (null) – before blinking off again. Nothing to care about. Knock Out would have to perform an actual medical grade scan to give the final word, however.
Two segmented lengths of metal uncoiled from the back of Soundwave’s frame, prehensile data jacks snaking pasted the Insecticon to the pod. He ignored Kickback now in favor of activating a direct line and re-setting the statis pod.
//statis core set to default. recharge required for prolonged activation//
And without another word, the comm officer disconnected and left the room.
The creature's size did not intimate him, nor did the foreignness of its vocaliser. It was not the first time he had been close to an Insecticon. They had been used to make a further spectacle of certain seasonal fights in the Arenas. Megatron was aware of their strength and stamina, the force behind their blasters and the crushing power of their dente.
Megatron did not speak until the doors had shut behind his spymaster, leaving him alone in the oft-forgotten room with the newly awakened Insecticon.
"I am Lord Megatron, Commander of the Decepticon army and your master aboard this ship you have been locked in stasis upon." The former gladiator took a step forward, shoulders squared and field a solid, hot extension of his armor. He tilted his helm, optics narrowed. "Answer me in Standard if you can understand me, and tell me your name."
The Insecticon spoke in his native tongue for a reason: He wanted to know who understood him.
Soundwave responded. Kickback made the mental note that, should anything go horribly awry, Soundwave would be the first to be eaten.
Then there was the matter of the mech in front of him. He recognized the silver Abaddon before him; who could forget such a face after the initial bombings, after the rallies in Kaon where the gladiatorial pits had been turned into military training stations?
He dropped to one knee, bowing his head, and raised his right hand in a fist, crossing it over his torso.
"I am Kickback," he spoke in seamless Neocybex. "I belong to you now, Master."
Megatron's satisfaction was internal, outwardly exuding the mountainous power and certainty that had driven the Decepticon faction onwards for millennia. The thrum and pulse that had drawn so many to him in the first place filled the room.
"And I shall use you well, Kickback," the warlord declared. "But for now, I shall have my medic see that you have not been unduly affected by such prolonged period in stasis."
Raising the arm bearing his fusion cannon, Megatron beckoned that the Insecticon to rise and follow.
<<OOC: Think this about covers the introductory thread with a close to you, if that's alright?>>