2017-07-12 Everything is Bad

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Everything is Bad
Date 2017/07/12
Location Lost Light - Command: Bridge
Participants Soundwave, Rodimus, Perceptor, Ultra Magnus, Torque, Blast Off, Gyro, Drift, Astrotrain, Pipes
Summary The crew's been SWAPPED! Most of them are taking it very badly, and if everyone could stop shouting for a few seconds, maybe we can get some answers.

No surprise that the captain's chair is central to the bridge, overlooking the stations for communication, weaponry, navigation and so on that are sunken beneath the level of the deck. The displays can be changed as needed, and it is even possible for other stations to be added as the room shifts through multiple configurations. Two rows of large windows form the forward two faces of the room's hexagonal shape; large screens cover the two back walls. Smaller stations, as well as doors to the elevator and to the incident room, are to either side of the room.

At some point during the night, something happens. It's the kind of detonation that strikes at a delay. The crew wakes from their recharge cycles at staggered intervals: there are the early risers, the people on off-shifts, and those determined to sleep the day through like if they just spend a few more hours under they'll finally be able to top off reserves that haven't felt full since the start of the war. That never seems to work, though, does it?

As they wake, many of them -- too many -- find themselves ... on the wrong bed. In the wrong room. In the wrong body.

In the utter chaos that results, one might hope that someone on the bridge knows what's going on, but it's well into the first hour of the morning shift and no one has actually showed up to command and Rodimus is supposed to be on for this shift, soooo. Mainframe is currently arguing with Siren about whether or not they should be telling Cybertron, but whoever it is that is in Siren -- maybe Mainframe? -- isn't very good about keeping their volume down. So it's hard to hear much.

Drift usually stays away from the bridge when he's off shift, which today he is, but today is also a special occasion because he woke up half his size. Needless to say, visiting the bridge and finding out what the hell is going on seemed like a good idea. "Soundwave!" Drift shouts, though he sounds exactly like Quicksight which.. isn't surprising at all since he IS Quicksight right now. He sprints over to Soundwave who he presumes is Soundwave because why wouldn't he? "I just woke up and I have no idea what's going on and I'm kind of freaking out! Please tell me you have some idea of what's going on!" Upon waking from recharge, Pipes noticed that two things were different: his habsuite and himself. He followed the same process that pretty much every other affected bot did: explored to figure out where he was; noticed his hands and torso looked different; got a look at himself; tried to figure out what in the Pit he was looking at, or who rather. There his process diverged: while many, neigh, most were perturbed by what they saw, Pipes only thought: OMP I'm a beastformer! A dream come true for an Earth fan such as he. Distracted thusly, he spent the next twenty minutes or so figuring out how to transform into a brand new (to him) horse mode! So gallant! So striking!

After the initial rush, though, Pipes fell to thinking about Roughshod and what happened to him. Oh, and what about his old frame? Is this some experiment of Brainstorm's gone awry? If so, no problem, but perhaps he should tell somebot. As he clopped out of the habsuite and made his way toward the science deck, he found several other bots in this same predicament, so ... well, before he goes off to the practice rooms to run laps, he figures he should check in or something, so he diverts to the bridge. And it looks like plenty of others had the same idea, so he lingers just outside the door to the bridge: listening but staying out the way of those prone to rushing in, tail swishing, and feeling an odd urge to chew on something.

Perceptor is both horrified and valiantly attempting to not appear horrified. He'd dozed off for a minute, just a light lapse of attention, and then he wasn't in his lab anymore and receiving updates from systems he's positive he doesn't have. He's been waiting on the bridge for a few minutes now, understandably irate that none of high command has shown up to shift yet. Him just being here doesn't have the same effect that it usually does though, seeing as Fireflight doesn't match rank with him and it's an irritated looking aerialbot standing there waiting for answers, not Perceptor.

Blast Off wakes up with one of the worst hangovers he's ever had in his life. He groans, hand reaching up to clutch at his head, which feels terribly swollen to him somehow. In a cloud of confusion, the shuttleformer (because he is one, he's always been one) blearily hefts himself up. Wow, *everything* feels swollen and cumbersome. Head pounding, he just sits for a long while before lifting his hand to rub at his neck- only for it to hit kibble which shouldn't even be there. What the smelt is going on? He looks around the room, then down and...what. WHAT. He must be more hungover than he thought. Staring, Blast Off gazes at hands and arms that are not his own. He frantically grabs at his face- it is not only swollen, there's no faceplate, and the mouth isn't his either.

IT HAPPENED AGAIN. THEY FORCED HIM TO SWITCH BODIES AGAIN. The survivor of a whiteout cell has been here before. He knows this. He knows losing his body and having his spark placed in another. It took him so long to get used to the new body, and now THEY did it AGAIN. In an instant panic, the Combaticon stumbles past a mirror, head spinning, barely comprehending that...wait, doesn't that frame look familiar? Like that... that guy in the bar, Trailbreaker? But Blast Off doesn't have time to dwell on that right now. NO. NO. He has to find out who did this to him again, and WHY. He didn't do anything wrong! This isn't fair! He did his time already! Blast Off the.... truck??? .. makes his way to the Bridge, head still spinning and nauseous, because his first thought is to demand from Command just WHO did this to him and WHY. THEY CAN'T DO THIS AGAIN, and they CAN'T take away his shuttle alt mode! Was it the Autobots? The Decepticons? WHO? He fights not to completely panic as thoughts of being spark isolated and imprisoned again flash through his worst fears once more.

Astrotrain storms onto the Bridge ..... and is failing utterly at it due to currently being a tiny femme with butterfly wings instead of his usual big burly self. It's hard to look irrate and intimidating when you're a third of anyone's size! How do Rumble and Frenzy manage i--oh, by being LOUD, that's how. "Dammit which one of your science nerds fragged up reality THIS time?!"

Well at least being loud is something the tiny form is still good at being. But without the familiar booming reverb it doesn't carry quite the same effect as it usually would. Nor is he grasping the irony that he's yelling about science nerds while being in the body of essentially a science nerd. He's too pissed off to care about it.

Torque's day started just like any other day. She wakes up at the right time, having gotten enough recharge during the evening, but that's about where the similarities end. As soon as she stands from her berth, blurry-eyed from sleep, a yelp escapes when feet slip from under her and she hits the ground. Bewildered, she gathers herself and looks down to her feet only to see.. some stiletto stubs. What the..? Oh gods, is she..? No. NO!

Torque's, meaning Gyro's, progress to the bridge is wrought with complications. When hugging the wall to steady herself on pinpoint pedes doesn't work, she then resorts to crawling. And to make it worse, when asking for aid all that comes out is some slurred, hissing, drooling mess. Fair to say someone seeing that reaching for them form the floor is quick to carry on. And don't even get her started on using her altmode. It has ONE WHEEL.

It's exhausting, but eventually she reaches the bridge, drool foaming from the facewound of her unmasked face, the mini wheezing to cycle a vent and cool insides while clawing into the room.

After trying to recharge off the pain from the fury from !Drift, Lieutenant finds himself pain free. Only to discover he's not in his body anymore. Long story short, he- or Skystalker, actually- is in the medibay now with Memory keeping a watch over him. With Skystalker taken care of first, Lieutenant took a few minutes to quickly learn one thing he could now respect of the spacer: how he walks in these heels! He has managed to slip, trip, and fall at least four times before sitting in the back with a sullen look on the beautiful face. He's scuffed up from just how many falls he's taken, and with the lack of his outlier ability, he actually has to take notes of whatever is said.

Lieutenant would be further upset by this turn of events if he wasn't so guilt-ridden about Skystalker. Poor mech got the short end of the straw, although, looking around it seems everyone might feel that way. Except Roughshod who seems strangely delighted.

Soundwave steps out of Rodimus's office. And by step, I mean stumble as those ridicilous puppy feet of Rodimus's drag. How does one so small have such LARGE FEET?! He manages to catch himself, spoiler flicking and angling up in agitation. Deeeep vent, deep vent. Looking up, the scowl on his face morphs into shock, mouth falling open. There's more people here than he had thought. He fidgets uncomfortably- so quiet, too quiet. He looks out among all the faces, being met with silence. Like looking at moving corpses.

Soundwave's optic twitches, a flicker of a flair rippling across his shoulders. He's fine! Fine. Just fine. The ripple dies and he 'blinks' upon hearing his name. That's- Who is that. Everyone- everything- sound different. Muted, not so vibrant. He looks around before hurriedly making his way to the head of the bridge. Again, stumbling. Stupid feet. "Who said my name?" he asks, sounding worried and disturbed.

There is a Mecha-Wyvern on the bridge, in alt mode, although why he is in alt-mode is not immediately clear. It's possible that he is stuck. Minimus is very unused to being this frame. His tail keeps lashing. The Bridge is clearly where he belongs in a crisis, but when he creeps out of the elevator, it is not like somebody who has the least clue what is going on. He also looks a lot more panicky and about-to-thrash-around than Whetstone usually does.

"GET. OUT." Quicksight might be a pain, but he's probably not used to getting shouted out by Soundwave on arriving at his office. But then, that's not Quicksight, and this isn't Soundwave, curled up on the floor of his office as the door slides open. His already-damaged chest has been broken open yet again and the cassettes that had been within have been sort of -- uh, well, they aren't in there anymore, let's just leave it at that. Rodimus has his hands curled over his head -- Soundwave's head -- and his visor is offline, glow muted.

Gyro wakes up early, ready for his morning shift in the morgue. Needless to say, he's in for a nasty surprise. He finds himself in someone else's hab suite, and not long after he realizes that's not the only thing that has changed. Being a medic, though, Gyro's first reaction (besides shock) is to assume that he is suffering some sort of visual hallucination. Desperate as he is, Gyro stumbles to the only place where he feels at home, the morgue, and starts to run tests. By the time everyone is gathering in the brigade Gyro has already been awake for hours and finally convinced himself that this isn't some psychotic break.

Left to seek other answers, Gyro emerges from the morgue and follows the rest of the crowd. Before he even reaches the bridge, his (Torque's) voice can be heard shouting from the hallway. "WHICH OF YOU OIL-DRIPPING TAILPIPES IS GOING TO TELL ME WHAT THE FRAG IS GOING ON?" he shouts. For every person that passes him, he also spares a, "FRAG YOU! YOU HAVE NO IDEA HOW LONG I'VE BEEN WAITING TO SAY THAT!"

Once he finally reaches the bridge, he slams his new-found hand against the door jamb. Not used to his new strength, he leaves a sizable dent behind.

Despite everyone shouting about how confused they are and 'what the hell is happening?', Drift hasn't picked up that maybe this is a problem not exclusive to himself. Maybe if he wasn't staring at a clearly distressed and damaged Soundwave curled up on the floor, he'd be able to put two and two together, but right now he's in full panic mode. "Oh my god, Soundwave! Are you okay!? What happened!? Do you need help!? I'm going to get you help!"

Drift transforms into Quicksight's alt-mode to get help. As soon as he leaves the ground, he careens right into the wall and crumples to the floor. Flying is hard.

"Quicksight did, Captain." Perceptor perks, there's Rodimus! Which means they're at least on-deck, if not... 100. Which the captain certainly doesn't look. "Captain it would appear that some form of-" Taking in the rest of the mecha appearing on the bridge, Perceptor scrunches his nose distastefully. "Body swapping has occurred, though I'm presently incapable of fully accessing my laboratory to run further tests or access any materials that may aid in diagnosing the problem which has caused this." Look at Fireflight, sounding like he's a scientist. He'd twitched at Nightshade's shout, but tactfully ignored it, along with Torque's shouting.

'Quicksight' slamming into the wall like an idiot at least distracts Astroshade for a moment. By this point he's at least grasped that he's not the only one suffering this weird crap, so that's probably not actually his little buddy. So a small arm is pointed at the jet's point of collapse, wings fluttering with the wave of amusement. "See, flying ain't as easy as you dipsticks think is it now! WHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA--" He stops partway into the nearly mad scientist maniacal laughter. "--... Huh. At least this slagpile has something going for it."

Pipes notes the drama unfolding everywhere around him, and decides he should just hang back for a bit. (GET IT? BIT?) Most everyone seems shouty anyway, although he can't spot the exception of Soundwave curled on the floor. Oh, and another exception. "Howdy, Whetstone! Or, maybe you're not Whetstone are ya? Well, I'm sure all our command staff'll set things right soon enough. They can get us outta this pickle!" There might be a slight drawl in Pipes's speech. Soundwave turns to look at Fireflight, staring in surprise. "I... Yes, I have surmised as much." His optics narrow at the jet. Who are you... Wheeljack? Percy? Brainstorm? Couldn't be Fireflight- though he sounds adorable. "We will get you access to your lab as soon as we are able. And I am not the Captain. Designation-" Oh, he heard that. His own voice, shouting.

Soundwave's optics widen and he sprints- these legs are so short- and only manages to trip when he gets to his office doorway, crashing into it but managing to cling and keep himself upright. Getting his feet back under him, he peaks into his room and- another warning flare ripples over his flame and this one ignites. "What have you done?!" Look at his frame! He had cassettes in there! Where- "Where are they?!" If they're hurt-!

Blast Off zooms in on what looks like Soundwave. Spotting what looks like Quicksight brings the Combaticon pause. GREAT, of everyone who could be here when he needs a moment of privacy with Soundwave, THAT jerk has to be here instead. Ugh. Not to mention others milling about, for some reason. But there is one thing he can do. Blast Off twitches a little in agitation, in a state of great anxiety, trying not to outright panic, and tightbeams a radio message to Soundwave, or the mech who appears to be Soundwave. He's got his radio frequency, after all.

Fists clench as he directs all his fear and wrestling for control into that message. "<< Soundwave, who DID THIS TO ME? Was this the AUTOBOTS? I DID MY TIME!!! I haven't done anything wrong, and even if I had, aren't they supposed to have a due process? Aren't I supposed to know WHY I am being punished??! They have NO RIGHT to spring this on me! This is what I get, isn't it. I was just starting to trust the Autobots, this is what I get for trusting.>>" The Combaticon/truck wrings his hands now, dentae clenching with agitation. Then he tenses more as a thought occurs, "<< ...Or, or was this the Decepticons? Did YOU do this? Who DID THIS TO ME, I have a right to know! I can't do this again, I can't lose my body again!! And I can't lose being a space shuttle, it's all I HAVE LEFT! /Please/. >>" The once-shuttle is desperate, pleading now as his head keeps spinning.

Torque is just a sad mess on the floor right now, on her knees and sifting through whatever's in her compartments. He can't talk so he must have-- AHA! Datapad in hand, she taps furiously on it and holds it aloft, desparation on her partially paralyzed face, which is probably a new look for Gyro. Being even shorter than usual, all may not see it, but she's shoving it at anyone near her, the text on the screen big and reading, What's happening?? WHERE'S MY BODY?!

And then. She hears it. Her own voice. Wide-eyed her helm snaps around to see her own body hollering across the room. Without hesitation she forces herself to tiny feet and half run, half stumbles and jumps to grab at Gyro's waist, a desparate, scratchy, foaming sound coming from her in a failed attempt at words.

Is that -- is that ... his own ... voice? Rodimus lifts his head, onlines his gaze, turns his visor at ... himself ... and promptly lies on his side with a monotone moan that frankly loses most of its dramatics in the flatness. He just sort of topples over like a tower to lie there. Like a block. "I have to still be high right now," he says into the floor. "Chimera, make it stop." When Blast Off tightbeams him, he spasms, planting his hands and pushing upright again: "SHUT. UP," he says loudly. Then, again, in a voice that really would be better with way more exclamation points: "Chimera."

Ultra Magnus attempts to dig Whetstone's talons into the metal flooring with limited success, kind of scrabbling in place like he's concerned about successfully remaining on the ground. He goes, "This is completely undignified," and he says so in what sounds suspiciously like a petulant whine. It sounds all wrong. Sparks of flame hiccup past his teeth to plop kind of sadly on the decking between him and the Pipes-horse.

Drift transforms back into his root mode, face against the floor, legs dangling above him. Oof, that hurt. He rights himself just as Rodimus comes in and starts yelling. Everyone is yelling! What's going on!? "Rodimus! Call Knock Out! Get Ratchet! Get someone! Soundwave needs help, like, right now!" He flails his tiny arms around in a panic.

"Whahahahahahahaha!" Followed by a tiny little whump as Nightshade's form flops on the floor, kicking and rolling in laughter. "I thought this was a nightmare but you shlubs have it so much worse!" Well Astrotrain still has his jerkass attitude at least... and a laugh that is arguably more annoying with how high and manic it gets.

Pipes waits a beat to try to figure out who Whetstone really is. He has a short list of guesses, and Magnus is on it to be sure. "I dunno. I mean, the bots who normally are in our bodies ... I mean, the sparks who are ... well, normally' everybot gets along in their frames just fine and don't feel undignified." His optics drift over to Gyro clawing his way up Torque. "Well, most everybot. Anyway, there's a reason for it, and if'n everybot could stop yellin' for a spell we'd be halfway to fixin' it." Seeing that maybe he could help with that, being a fair bit larger than his usual self, he sidles himself fully onto the bridge. "Hay, could y'all settle down? It looks like we've all got the same problem."

Perceptor plants his hands on hips, ex-venting slooowly before tromping over to what he's going to assume is the congregation of command staff and pivoting to face everyone else that's gathered. If they're not going to try to restore some order. "If you could all retain a measure of composure, we can begin to figure out who is who, and what has occurred to facilitate these circumstances. Panicking and shouting will not aid any of us at this point in time. Your energies would best be directed elsewhere."

After a few seconds, the aerialbot adds, "There will be time to freak out later. Help us make sense of the situation before you demand we fix it." Turning slightly, he chimes to possibly-not-Rodimus and probably-Drift. "I'm Perceptor, apologies for not clarifying earlier."

Everything is so chaotic in the bridge that Gyro's shouts are drowned out and ignored. The mortician is not the only irate mecha; however, his presence has not gone unnoticed. Before he has the chance to curse more, something latches onto his waist. His optics snap down and recoils at the sight of himself in clearly-desperate straits. No, this is all wrong. The mortician tries to shove the other mecha away, needing space, and lets out a low hiss.

"Which pathetic pile of rusted bolts are you? You're doing it all wrong," he snaps. Reaching down, he tries to yank his own body back into the proper posture to walk. He's put so much work into cultivating an intimidating persona and this idiot is ruining it! It's making him look pathetic and weak instead of disgusting. Unacceptable. It's highly possible that he yanks Torque a little too hard. "Where'd you put the goddamn face mask? What did you think it was for? It'll help with the drooling. Save that for the right moment. And you didn't even clean that out this morning, did you? Frag you. We're going to get another goddamn infection." As for the look of desperation, the only way he can think to fix it is a 'light' slap. He reaches out to do just that.

Blast Off blinks when Soundwave(?) tells him to shut up, jerking back with surprise. Optic ridges furrow down as the Combaticon studies the other Decepticon... what appears to be another Decepticon, at least. Then again... he doesn't look much like one himself right now. He glances down at the big red Autobot badge on his dark chest and staggers backwards, stumbling against a wall, then leans against it to clutch his head and hufff in pain. Except even his trademark *huff* doesn't sound right, because there is no shuttle thrusters or ventilation systems behind it now. All he makes is some clicking, gurgling engine noise. Something starts powering up, though, he's not even sure what, and it feeds the panic he's already experiencing. Sorry Pipes, Percy. Panic generates panic bubble, and suddenly *pop*, there's Blast Off/Trailbreaker in a forcefield bubble, huddled against the wall. He barely seems to notice yet, since everything is still spinning. "I can't... I can't do this again..."

"I am never one to disagree with the necessity of order," Minimus says, drawing himself as high and straight as this alt mode will go, but he gives himself the lie by exhaling another, larger gust of flame, and then going, "Ack." He has probably never said "Ack" before in his life.

Soundwave tries patting the flames licking around his frame out. He didn't mean to do that. Sucking in a deep vent, he manages to extinguish the flames on his own. And there someone goes, using the wrong name again. He looks at Quicksight before pinching the bridge of his nose. "I am not Rodimus. I am Soundwave. Evidence indicates we have- oh." Realization dawns on his face. Swapped bodies. If he's here, then there's a good chance that Rodimus is... There's a chance...

Soundwave enters his office deeper, missing the panic bubble to approach his frame. "Perceptor is right, no shouting, that'll just make it worse." He lifts his hands but doesn't touch. He remembers what this used to be like for him- and he can't get answers about cassettes when someone is like this. He lowers his voice. "Listen to me carefully. I need you to focus on one thing. A sound or thought. Focus on it, let everything else flow around it. Then try and tell us your name."

"So.. you're Soundwave but you're in Rodimus' body?" Drift slooooowly starts to piece it together. "Then Soundwave is actually.. Rodimus!?" His worry levels skyrocket and he grabs either side of his head with his hands. Soundwave being in distress is pretty bad, but knowing it's actually Rodimus is even worse. "Hnnn!" He desperately wants to step in and try to help but Rodimus, er.. Soundwave is already on the case and is definitely going to be better at it than he is.

He backs out of the room only to bump into a panic bubble. Oh geez, if this happened to command then it happened to everyon else, right? He looks over the bridge at the chaos. "How in the hell.." Meanwhile, Minimus Ambus has accidentally set the command chair on fire.

Torque is usually the courageous one, but being outside her body is extremely distressing. Looking to Perceptor, in Fireflight, she gestures wildly, unsure how to even communicate right now while in a panic. "Hgh!" A grunt is about the only sound she can muster, forced to stand on tiny feet while hands grasp Gyro and legs wobble like a newborn fawn to keep steady.

When he asks who she is, though, he gets a hard look, lips curled and a snarl emitting, the medic slapping her chest before it slaps his. She's you! As for his judgement of keeping his own frame up to snuff, Torque is about to argue, datapad already in hand, but she doesn't get much further when he lightly slaps her.

A light slap. From someone who casually put their hand through a door trying to open it. Needless to say, it feels like a full on, pitcher's swing of a slap to Torque and she can feel all of it in this frail body. Her helm jerks and she staggers on little pedes before crumpling in a heap, out cold.

Panicking is such a mild word for the current state of Rodimus's world. When his pleas -- his monotone, flat, inflectionless pleas -- to Chimera fail to bring any desired clarity, his desperation and agony only grow. Look how agonized he is! Lying there. In a brick. On his side. Look how desperate he is! Lying there. In a brick. On his side. Perhaps the clutch of his hands on his helm, fierce as it is, might give some hint to some sort of actual emoting, but to be honest, his frame is completely terrible for this. Like. He's a brick. Lying there. On his side. He tries to pull away from his approaching self, but he's rather limited in his ability to curl up. Frankly, !Soundwave had moments of greater dignity than Rodimus in this moment. "Shut up, shut up, shut up," he monotones. That is apparently the thought-slash-sound he is focusing on. "Why am I talking to me."

Astrotrain manages to stop laughing hard enough to get up. Which really isn't much of a change in height. "Primus dammit, how am I suppose to not get stepped on?" Though after a moment of mulling it he finds that the wings still work in this mode, they're just obnoxiously bright and fluttery as they hover him off the floor. "Oh?... Oh! OH HO HO!" Gawd stop laughing Astrotrain, Nightshade's voice is even -more- annoying with your guffawing. At least he manages to enjoy the moment. "Frag yeah, I can still fly at least!" The little flutterfemme buzzes around a few times. "Bet I can hover high enough to spit oil on people sti--"

  • WHUMP* "--Oof!" That would be the sound of tiny butterfly femme running into the forcefield around not-Trailbreaker, sprawled out like, well, a bug on the windshield against the energy sphere.

It looks to Pipes like Fireflight is the only other bot around here with some horse sense (although Pipes has more ha HA). He's about to follow up with another attempt to calm everyone when Trailbreaker's panic bubble knocks him aside. Sure enough, not yet being accustomed to quadrupedalism, his legs tangle and trip over each other until he finally keels over. Hope he didn't land on anyone. Oh, but this is a predicament. He bends his legs and twists in an attempt to stand back up, having not yet needed to do so. "Listen to Fireflight, y'all."

Gyro watches the other mecha in his frame stumble and take another dive. Even though its his own frame he's watching, he feels a tiny thrill at the sight. He's not used to this kind of power. 'If only I had it earlier...' he thinks. If he had it earlier, perhaps he could have fought more directly in the fight for Luna 2. But there are more important things than what-could-have-been. Nudging the fallen mecha with his pedes, not yet realizing they've passed out, he snaps, "Get up. I think they're finally going to give us answers." Perceptor runs a hand over his face, grimacing at the feel of the too-angular helm and features that aren't quite where they should be. "Perceptor, actually." He corrects, standing still and straight. At least now everyone's done... shouting at eachother, for the most part, they can get some answers out of the gathered mechs. "If you are capable of listing your designations, and whose body you are presently inhabiting, please do so. In an orderly fashion, preferrably." He hopes Soundwave - Maybe Rodimus? They don't know its a 1:1 transfer - is okay, the mech doesn't sound well, whoever is inhabiting the body. A small commiserating smile is spared toward Quicksight-probably-Drift. Welcome back to the shouting match.

Torque just lays there, unresponsive to the nudging. Just.. drag her to the medibay or something.

Everybody bumping into his panic bubble, mang. Blast Off/not-Trailbreaker remains huddling inside there. In some ways it's actually kind of nice- Blast Off is always putting up figurative walls around himself to shield himself from people. Now he gets to put a LITERAL wall up. He stares at the butterfly femme as she splats against the shield...ooops... but his pounding head, courtesy of one heckuva hangover thanks to Trailbreaker's drinking, has him a bit subdued now that the intial surge of panic hit. He turns his head to stare dully at Pipes now... but the mech's behavior finally registers. Wait, is everyone here having the same crazy sort of day he's having? Maybe this isn't just some bad hangover. Though... speaking of drinking, Blast Off is suddenly extremely thirsty.... He hears Perceptor call for names, but doesn't feel like being the first one to offer such information. No, he's just gonna settle in this bubble, all safe and snug and... hey wait, how does he get out?

Soundwave scowls. "Listen to me," he snaps. This would be easier if they listened to him. At least that confirms who this is. "Rodimus, I am Soundwave. We have switched frames for unknown reasons. You are currenly being overloaded by an abundance of data and sensation and trying to process all of-" His mouth shuts in the sudden realization of why is he explaining this.

"Rodimus, I am moving to help you up. To the medibay. They have dampeners that should help calm the cacophony you are listening too," he says gently, reaching to lift... Hmmm, he's a lot bigger and heavier than he recalls. His spoiler flick-flicks. "Rodimus, can you transform? It'll be better in alt-mode."

The butter-femme squirms slowly to move one arm closer and put a palm against the bubble. Then does the same with the other arm. There's a faint suction releasing sound effect as she pushes her face away from the forcefield, because audible cues are a thing even if they make no sense. "Astrotrain," she manages to squeak, before flopping backwards off the force-bubble and hits the floor once more. "Okay, being tiny sucks again, one of you fraggin' geek-bots fix this already."

Pipes has managed to get the body of his horse frame filly upright, but getting his hooves in the right spots to push him up off the deck remains elusive. His rear legs are scrunched up, but the front ones still scrabble. "I'm Pipes. But I'm Roughshod now? But really I'm Pipes." He swings his head around to try to appear somewhat optimistic, but anyone looking at him may wonder why he's got such a ... long face.

When Gyro's body doesn't respond to his own efforts to rouse it, the mortician turns his attention from not-Fireflight to his frame. "Come on," he mutters. Squatting down, Gyro reaches out and gives his frame a shake in an attempt to rouse it. "You're kidding me." He came here to get answers, and now this.

Optics snapping up, he notes that no one is watching him or his former-frame. Scowling, he decides it's better to disappear before anyone does notice. "This is fragging great," he mutters, picking up the limp frame with one hand and throwing it over his shoulder. He starts to ease towards the exit while all eyes are on Fireflight.

"M'listening to you," Rodimus says in a slightly more emphatic monotone, one that rasps at the edges with a hint of static. "Listening to everything. Hear everything, see everything--." When Soundwave reaches for him, he twitches, kicking ... himself to try to get the noise away. Not quite used to the size of his frame, his kick is all awkward flailing brick.

<FS3> Opposed Roll -- Soundwave=body+body-2 Vs Rodimus=reaction+reaction < Soundwave: Good Success (7 2 2 7) Rodimus: Good Success (8 7 2 6 6 5) < Net Result: DRAW

<OOC> Soundwave says, "draws are boring" Rodimus spends 1 luck points on can't bore soundwave.

<FS3> Opposed Roll -- Soundwave=body+body-2 Vs Rodimus=reaction+reaction < Soundwave: Success (8 6 1 4) Rodimus: Failure (4 5 2 4 6 1) < Net Result: Soundwave wins - Marginal Victory

But it's still a kick, knocking Soundwave back into the desk -- where he finds the rest of his tapes who had been in the room. They look a little ragged but mostly intact. Uh, mostly. ANYWAY. They are hiding. They might not even be themselves. THEY PROBABLY AREN'T.

That little butterfly is *Astrotrain*? Blast Off would almost laugh if he were capable right now. He glances around at some of the chaos, or attempts to stifle chaos, that are going on before looking to this Fireflight guy, who is a lot more intelligent than Blast Off remembers. And much more focused. Ok, most of the others have spoken, so he will too. Though now, as he reveals himself, he tries to stand more straight, look mopre dognified than someone huddled against a wall. "I am Blast Off." He glances over at Rodimus and Soundwave, or is it vice versa? Oh frag, was he telling /Rodimus/ that he was worried about the Autobots doing this to him? Though from the look of things, maybe Rodimus won't remember that... hopefully.

"I know," Soundwave says in sympathy. "If you-oof!" The size difference is not insignificant between them, slamming him back into his own desk. His vents wheeze. That hurt.

Soundwave rubs his helm- minding the pointy bits- before noticing the cassettes. Again, his frame ripples with warning heat as anger builds... And he forcibly gets rid of it with a stomp of his giant feet. "Rodimus! Transform right now so I can take you to medibay! If you don't, you're going to suffer longer." He starts looking around for something, just in case. A hit to the back of the head triggers transformation sometimes...

Minimus attempts to focus on being himself. It doesn't really work, but it does enable him to revert back to Whetstone's root mode, standing with careful, wary tension. The flames gutter around the chair that he accidentally ignited and he glowers at them, before striding up to the chair and slapping his hand down on the controls. "This is Ultra Magnus," he snaps at them, "override, emergency fire suppression." It's not the right voice print, but anybody can use emergency fire suppression, apparently, because the chair is suddenly sprayed with gouts of flame retardant chemicals. Unfortunately for this, so is Minimus. Whetstone's frame dances back but with less immediate alacrity than Minimus has in his tiniest rooted frame -- still, this part, accustoming himself to the 'controls' as his spark rules another frame, isn't actually that hard for him now that he's not freaking out about having a tail.

In the absence of anyone else deciding what to do, Perceptor vents and nods slightly. "Great. If you're aware of who you've swapped bodies with and where you were last located, please attempt to find and aid them in making their way to the medical bay." With a disheartening glance back toward Soundwave's room, Perceptor winces and looks back to the Bridge at large. "If you're unable to navigate properly don't attempt to move, I'll see what can be done to aid you. As of yet we don't know what has caused this situation to transpire, but the science team will be working diligently to reverse the effect." They'll need to send out a ship-wide announcement, too. If this much of command has been affected, there's no telling how many of the crew have been swapped. He's really hoping it isn't some misfire of one of Brainstorm's experiments. Then again, if it is, that wouldn't be so difficult to fix, knowing the cause.

Blissfully unnoticed, Gyro slips out of the crowded bridge with the imposter-him. Shouldering his burden, he immediately detours for the less frequented areas of the ship to get this... sorted out, as it were.

There's a pause as Perceptor mentions remembering where their normal frames were at last.... Which is followed by Astrotrain cracking up with laughter yet again. "Aaaahaha oh Primus! I was napping between shifts in the shuttle bay in alt mode. She's gonna have NO idea what's going on at all."

Rodimus attempts to snarl at Soundwave but it sounds kind of like like a rumble? It's low and flat and anyway without the curl of his lip, the bared teeth, and the spark of his gaze, the effect is ruined. He just kind of goes, "Mmph." Seriously. It's a tragedy. If he tries to transform -- and he might -- there's certainly no sign of it.

At length, Pipes gets his front hooves planted in front of him and, with a helping head bob, pushes up. Almost automatically, the scrunched rear legs flex out next, and ... he's up! The legs shuffle a little, but overall, Pipes finds that he's ... stable. "Thank Primus. So, uh ... if any y'all's headin' to the habsuites. I can, um ..." Would the real Roughshod mind? Eh, probably not! "I can give you a ride."

Blast Off just sits ion his bubble. And there's fire. But he doesn't know how to get OUT of the bubble. So ummm... looks like he's gonna be stuck here awhile. At least the fire can't get in here. But wow, he wishes he had a drink right about now.....

Soundwave doesn't see anything useable at first... Then he realizes that Rodimus has a subspace. Right. He checks that and pulls out Rodimus's bow. This will work. Soundwave approaches Rodimus's back. "I apologize in advance. The mass displacement might feel a little... Odd." He lines the bow up to the back of his frame's helm before pulling back and... SWING!

<FS3> Rodimus rolls Unarmed: Good Success. (7 3 8 5 4 4 3 3 2 7)

It's a swing and a HIT, and with a tsche-chu-chu-chu-tsche, Rodimus transformers into a smaller, even square-ier brick. His speakers immediately crackle to life with a stunningly vile streak of curses, some of them Nyon-native. Just in case there was any lingering doubt about who was in there. He calls himself some really rude things.

Soundwave has heard about the same filth come from Rumble and Frenzy's mouth. He's unaffected. So this is what his alt mode looks like from the outside. He squints, spoiler angling back. Its so small. So, so, so small. "Cursing, unneccessary, Captain." Very carefully he pinches Rodimus between his fingers transfers him to the palm of one hand. Holding Rodimus at arm's length, he begin to makes his way around the tumultuous chaos to get Rodimus to medibay. He's being very careful to focus on A) not falling and B) not getting angry and just igniting again. He doubts Rodimus would appreciate that. "Everyone should disperse. We will announce more to you as we get the facts," he announces to those still lingering. Shoo, you're all a distraction that could result in something very bad for the tiny cassette player.

"Com'n bubble bot." Astrotrain turns and puts his back to the forcefield to push it into rolling. Except he's neither big or strong now. Feet scrap against the deck a few times. The forcefield ball tips a little to the side... and then rolls right back on top of him, knocking him back to the floor. "... frag ..."

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