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.
"Y' should go 'sight seein' Red. Wha goods th' Bridge if'n y' don' use it? Th' planets' fulla all KINDS'A thins!"
The little sniper tilted hir helm up to blink bleary at the larger mech. That's right Sideswipe wasn't an Autobot any more, he's neutral. As sloshed as ou is it takes a moment for anything more than idle rambling to form, and even longer to get them out. All things considered it was probably not the best time to ask but an inquiring mind wanted to know.
Sideswipe smiled. It was kind of cool smile, not quite cold – a middling temperature kind of smile that you could read absolutely anyway but real. He picked up Blue’s empty cube and went to fill it up again, not answering the question and not looking the sniper while he did so. He focused instead on adjusting the mechanisms of the energon dispenser – the various dials and toggles – setting back the concentration until it was basically nothing more than a light energon spritzer laced with nanite additives for tang. He watched it, glowing slightly, dispense blue into the bottom of the glass, the irradiated glow of it dim in the overheads.
Sides thought about that asteroid, about being huddled in fucking ditch with Sunstreaker while the Cons shelled their position so hard the percussive force of the explosives against the other side of the rocks threatened to blow their audios apart. He remembered their one teammate getting through on the comms, to tell them that the drop ship was leaving without them, and their commander hadn’t seen fit to tell them to retreat. Knowing, not suspecting, it was not because there wasn’t time to come back for them or meet them at a rendezvous but rather because it was too much trouble to save their lives.
Sideswipe turned back to the bar and set the glass in front of Bluestreak, inspecting the color for a moment before looking up at the other bot. “Exodus made things weird,” he said. “After th’ Ark disappeared… command structure got a bit fragged. CO’s glitching out on their trainin’, forgettin’ how ta do things. Got looser about who ta leave behind.” He shrugged. “When they left us… figured we’d been relieved of duty.” He did not bring up the Raider ship, how they came to Earth – packed in cold storage, woken up only to wish they hadn’t been. Not relevant. “Took some shore leave.”
Last Edit: May 27, 2013 23:03:55 GMT -5 by Deleted
Ou didn't take the cube not right away. Instead reaching out to take one of Sideswipes hands in hir's. A snipers hand strong and steady even when quite possibly sloshed out of hir mind. Hir optics over charged and bright, voice firm in it's conviction.
"Th'a was wrong a them. Y' never leave a bot behind. Ah'd never a left y' an Sunstreakr y know that righ'? But... We need y' Sides an AH miss 'y if tha count's fer anythin. So 'y can come back y' know if, when y'r ready."
Ou paused helm tilting to the side and a small smile that could only be described as bloodthirsty crossed hir face.
"An y' ever find 'th slaggers tha ditched y' like tha an ah'll put some extra holes in em fer 'y."
Sideswipe said this without any particular inflection, casually mentioning that his former unit might be snuffed, grayed out, obliterated scrap on the edge of the verse somewhere. He tried to care. He looked for a part of himself that gave a damn because he knew he’d had that part of himself before, even after he woke up and realized they’d left them behind he’d wondered first thing: did they get away? It was a reflex of being part of their team, having kept the fraggers alive when they should have been dead but when it came down it… they’d left him and Sunstreaker behind instantly. Immediately.
“But I appreciate the gesture.” Sides tapped a finger against his glass. “An’… it’s not true that ya don’t leave Bots behind. We do. We leave ‘em behind because we can’t save em, or there’s nothin’ we came do, orders, whatever. It happens. That’s not why I left the Autobots.” He examined the bottom of the glass. “I like you, Blue. I like a lot of Autobots. I’d die for a lot of Autobots still but...” He tapped his finger against the glass again, closed his eyes. “…not right now. I don’t feel like dying for the Autobots right now.”
This wasn't going to be an argument ou could win as drunk off hir aft. Still ou reached you to take his hand in that touchy feely way of hirs.
"Ah'll never abandon y' Sides. An' when 'y ready ta come back ah'll be happy ta watch 'y back again. Till then ah'll always be 'y friend."
Ou reached down and took the second cube he'd gotten hir. Making a much more careful sip. This one TASTES less likely to send hir for a loop and into a ventilation shaft but that's never been a trust worthy indicator.
"An in th' mean time y'got this place an y've got th' start ah a pretty nice bar."
He was looking up as he spoke. Was looking at metal sheet riveted into the wall above the bar, with Sunstreaker’s ‘Starry Night’ painted on it, the ad hoc lights, the jerry-rigged energon dispenser, the pile of scrap metal and shit he’d salvaged from the POS – their former prison ship, and hellhole – all lying around glinting with possibility. He was not dead. Four million years of war, their planet shredded, their species decimated, ditched by his squad, stranded on earth, attacked by Megatron himself, stuck with a pack of civvies and brightplates who didn’t know warfare from jack… and still alive.
He grinned at Blue, sitting next to him, leaned over and looped an arm around her hir neck. “You’re right,” he said, dropping the side of his helm against Blue’s. “It does look like it’s gonna be a pretty nice bar.” He leaned back to smirk down at Blue. “And while I won’t die for the Autobots, just ta be clear, I’d fight to th’ death for you, Bluebell.”
You’re an idiot, said that part of Sideswipe that was, in some part, Sunstreaker. You don’t owe the gunner anything. You don’t owe any of them anything. War’s over. World’s dead. Dying for them is idiotic. Sideswipe pretended not to hear any of it, pretended those weren’t his thoughts running quietly through his neural net as virulent as a virus taking root in the core of his skull. He thought them and rejected them instantly. Because it was Bluestreak. That, Sideswipe thought, was a good enough reason to do just about anything.
It wasn’t a complicated reason to fight for: Bluestreak.
It just seemed to him that dying for the cause had never been so incredibly noble as it was made out to be – freedom and justice and blah blah blah. Those were words on dead bandwidths. Bluestreak, meanwhile, was a person under his arm, laughing at his jokes, with a spark powering hir through the universe same as his and that, to him, could be fought for. You could fight to keep that.
“Sounds good, Blue. Bring Legion and Hide next time. It’ll be good ta see ‘em.”
Last Edit: Jun 23, 2013 20:16:03 GMT -5 by Deleted