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2015-06-03 Getting Directions

From Transformers: Lost and Found

Getting Directions
Date 2015/06/03
Location Clemency
Participants Blast Off, Rodimus
Plot Labyrinth
Scene GM Roz
Summary Blast Off and Rodimus do not hold hands.

Holding hands helps until it doesn't. It's the work of a moment, like someone shifted the grip of their fingers, and then their hand was empty. Someone calls out, but the voice is distant, or it echoes around their ears, or else it comes from every direction. The next time someone calls, Rodimus and Blast Off can barely hear it.

They are alone, but for each other.

The walls around them are bleeding. It's less dramatic than what they saw before, and a bit more solid in their vision and their minds, as if maybe this one is /real/. The walls themselves seem covered with some form of epidermis, which is where the remnants of blood have collected. It's not exactly a comfort.

Blast Off is SO done with the hand holding. I mean c'mon... he's a mighty Combaticon warrior, not some newspark afraid of the dark. He isn't afraid of *anything*. He's seen almost everything. There's nothing that can perterb him in the least and... and.... why are the walls bleeding? The mighty space warrior stops and stares, looking around. Wait, where did everyone go? He's... he's alone? WAIT. There's... there's someone! He takes a step forward and.... ugh. It's /Rodimus/. Pfft.

But still... it IS someone. Not that... that he hates to be alone or anything. No, no, of course not. It's just... good to keep together so that they can get this solved and get back to the ship more quickly. Yes, that's all. The Combaticon takes another look at the rather disgusting-looking walls and keeps his distance. ".... Where did everyone go *this* time? Did you see?," he asks the Autobot as his grip tightens on his weapon.

Fade in on Rodimus, cursing. /At length/. /Creatively/. He has a foul enough mouth to do a Decepticon proud, and it's certainly not very Autobot, what comes out of his mouth.

Rodimus winds up with, "--hate this ship, hate this planet, hate this beacon. I'm going to start shooting things." The weapons on his arm give a subtle activation whine as they power up. The lights glow in the barrels. He means it!

The walls seem to hum a little, very low, just out of earshot. It's the hum of almost-life, inviting and repellant all at once.

Blast Off looks at Rodimus. An Autobot powering up his weapons was usually NOT a good thing, and his instincts are the become very cognizant of his ionic blaster, the fact that the safety still needs to be taken off, and where his trigger finger is. But wait, no. No shooting the Captain, and the Captain is probably not aiming (ha) to shoot HIM. ...Probably. The Combaticon keeps an optic on him anyway, though. ".... While I understand the sentiment, Rodimus, I would advise to excercise caution- as well as save your ammunition for a time you might actually *need* it."

"I don't know. Kind of feel like I need it now." With a disgusted shrug, Rodimus offlines his weapons. His spoiler twitches with the force of his shrug. Anxiety bleeds into his expression as he studies the room. It's not the walls, particularly, which seem to get to him -- although they certainly don't help. "Where are the others? Come on. Let's get moving and see if we can find them again."

Apparently it doesn't matter that Rodimus's weapons have whined offline -- to him and him only, fire starts to slowly burn along the walls, small flames beginning to lick up from the bottoms of the wall.

Blast Off takes another look at the rather revolting walls before focusing once more on Rodimus. When the Autobot offlines his weapons the Combaticon can't help but relax a little. A *tiny* bit. He nods. "Understood. I am not sure how they got seperated from us so quickly. There is something very... odd about this place. Something... weird." He starts moving forward, not seeing anything else amiss.

"I--." Rodimus breaks off, hesitating as he watches the fire with an uncertain expression. Both hesitation and uncertainty fit themselves unnaturally on his features. It looks wrong. His is not a face meant for such things. He shoulders quickly past the fire to continue onward. "They might even be right here, and we just can't see them. We can't trust our sight, our hearing. We can't trust touch. There's nothing we can trust! What are we supposed to do? Just kneel in place like that Ignition whackadoodle? Can't do that. Gotta keep moving."

The fire grows, eating away at the walls and leaving behind and impossible Cybertronian horizon in their place. Instead of walls, Rodimus seems an exploded emptiness and the rubble of Nyon beyond, burning to the ground. In the distance, through the impossible empty wall, someone screams his name.

"Yes..." Blast Off agrees, though his optic ridges furrow down as doubt flickers across his mind. "I... I saw something back there. Something....I guess was not...." He hesitates to admit this, but finally decides it wiser to speak of it, "...real?" He glances at the Captain. "What did you see back there? With those pods? Mercy let go of my hand and then I was... suddenly inside one of those pods. I... couldn't get out and you all just seemed to be staring at me."

Rodimus shakes his head. He looks haunted. By every possible definition of the word, he looks haunted.

As the blazing fire leaves walls crumbling to ash, his gaze skips past Blast Off and stares off into a distance that perhaps only he can see. The scream of his name sends Rodimus turning away. His shoulders pull in. His spoiler droops. "No. It's not real." He says nothing about what he sees, but he's shaken enough that whatever it was is clearly as happy for him as confinement was for Blast Off. "We have to be able to build on something. Something has to be true, right? Why /not/ just start shooting power junctions?"

"Rodimus, please," one of the voices whispers close to his ear. "Don't abandon us."

Blast Off looks at Rodimus, waiting for an answer, but instead he gets a... haunted look? His head drops forward a little as he stares at the other mech. "..." What the slag is going on? "Are you... alright?" He sounds doubtful, but then the Autobot speaks. "Why not... well, did you have something specific in mind, or do you just feeling like shooting something?" Maybe if he can get Rodimus to voice his thoughts he can have more idea what's going on up there. Assuming soemthing is.

Rodimus laughs. It's more a desperate sound than one carrying any humor. He sinks back against the far wall, offlines his eyes and bows his head. His lean slowly melts into a curled seat on the floor. It's not nearly as dignified as Ignition's still kneeling poise. "This doesn't last. It didn't last for you. So maybe we just -- wait it out. Let it turn its attention to someone else. So that we're free to try to find the /right/ things to shoot. And don't--" He glances up again, studying the ruins and rubble. "Just make sure we hit the right thing," he repeats.

But -- Rodimus! They're right there, right beyond where you can't see. The whispers continue quietly on the edges of his mind for a while, but as before, offlining his optics seems to help ground him in what's real. Blast Off is left with that uneasiness in the back of his head, like someone's creeping up behind him.

Blast Off eyes Rodimus, getting even more weirded out by his behavior. His optic ridges furrow down even more and he tilts his head a little. "...You're seeing something, aren't you?" He asks quietly, glancing around to try and discover the source if he can. But the only thing so far is a strange creeping sensation. The Combaticon turns his head to look behind him, weapon raising up a little.

"No, I just want a nap," Rodimus says, then unnecessarily snaps, "Yes, of course I'm seeing something! Why do you think I'm trying so hard not to see something! Maybe if I take my eyes /out/--." Then Ratchet will kill him. Don't do that.

As he turns his head, Blast Off catches a glimpse of a control panel recessed into a wall. It's kind of sticky, given the wall is made of epidermis, but he catches a glimpse nevertheless.

Blast Off lets out a HUFF. "No need to get snappy." Not like he didn't lose it at all when he thought he was trapped, no, of course he didn't. "...What are you seeing, then?" Meanwhile, he doesn't see anyone behind him, per se, but.... wait... what's that? The Combaticon steps forward until he reaches the control panel. He stares at it. Should he reach over and... touch something? There's an uneasy glance towards the wall of epidermis, because... ew, that's just gross.

Rodimus still seems to be tempted to pull his eyes out, but in the end, he just settles for turning them off again, and placing his hands over them. There is a thin, barely audible whisper of sound from his direction.

It kind of sounds like, 'Til all are one.'

There's a sudden sharp thought in Blast Off's brain that says he should distinctly /not/ mess with that panel.

Blast Off looks over at Rodimus. "Pull yourself together. Whatever you're seeing, there's nothing here. Except... except this panel." he looks back to the thing in question. Hand hovering, he studies it, then slowly starts to reach out and... stops. Something tells him not to proceed. But... is it him, or is it something else? He inches his finger closer, but still doesn't touch anything. Yet.

"I am totally pulled together!" Rodimus stares up at Blast Off with a seethe that flashes hot. Outrage is enough to get him to his feet, draw him to Blast Off's side, and them punch his arm. Friendly-like. "Why don't you pull /yourself/ together. What are you even doing?" he asks, looking past him at the panel.

You stay away from that panel! Don't you dare!

The panel... or that voice, or... soemthing... keeps causing Blast Off to hesitate. Then Rodimus pulls himself together enough to come over and *punch him*, which draws a loud and indignant huff of protest from the Combaticon, who steps back. It's possible there's even a dent in his armor, since he is basically a glass cannon. "I BEG your pardon!" He glares, then looks to the panel again. "...There's a panel. But...it...I..." He blinks, a little confused. "Maybe I shouldn't push anything, I..."

But wait. Maybe this is just more of something messing with his mind? Like with Rodimus? Like with him earlier? "I..." Oh slag it all. He winces, drawing a sharp intake of air- then jabs a finger towards the panel before he can think better of it.

Rodimus is a second behind him, activating his weapons before he realizes that Blast Off is poking it. "Oh, right," he says with a sheepish laugh as he puts his guns back down. "Not shooting it."

The panel is stubbornly difficult to focus on, but eventually the pair of them can see /something/ that indicates power consumption and power lines through the ship. It's not that there's no power for the lights, it's just that a lot of the power -- an inordinate amount -- is being focused in one area of the ship.

"/No/." Blast Off sounds emphatic. "For Primus' sake, don't shoot this thing. It could... it could..." He tries to focus on it again, but slag it's hard. His finger presses forward by sheer force of will alone... though it halts and hesitates as it goes. "...uh. Can you... tell where that power is being focused on? It's concentrated in one spot, I believe.."

Rodimus reaches out to push Blast Off's hand when he hesitates, halts. With the panel evading focus, he tries to trick it: he focuses on guiding Blast Off's hand! (To it. To turn things off.) "Who cares? Just turn it all off. Everything. Done. Gone. And you're lucky I'm not shooting it, because I /really/ want to shoot something."

Sadly, even with all the focus in the world, the panel does not offer the capability to turn off the concentrated power. It even gives them an angry chirp if they try. Looks like their power princess is in another castle.

Blast Off tries poking and prodding, but alas there is no power to turn off. "Just don't shoot /me/. Shoot the ceiling or something if you simply /must/ shoot at an object." He blinks as the panel... chirps at him? "What *is* this? It's like there's a sentience all around us. Something playing with our minds."

Is there a 'you are here' on the panel? How about indications of where lines are relative to where they are? Can Rodimus shoot it? These are all very important questions. "I'm not going to shoot you. And I'm not going to just randomly start shooting things. The rest of my team--" HIS team. "--could be around and for whatever reason we can't see them, so."

Through the panel's readings, they're able to get a general sense of where they are in relation to the power concentration, and a general direction they might be able to go to reach it. If they can stick to the path.

Blast Off gives Rodimus a nod. "Good. Then let us keep our heads, so that whatever this is doesn't get the best of us." He looks down at the panel, pointing at a reading. "I.. think if we head this direction we *might* get closer to the source of power. For now, that seems to be our only lead?" He glances to the Captain.

"Sure. Why not." Rodimus folds his arm behind his head and pivots to face in the right direction. He strides forward with a wave of his hands and says, "Good luck not going in circles!"

He does not reach for Blast Off's hand.

Around a corner, they hear -- both of them -- a familiar voice or two. This time not ones from either of their pasts, but ones from their present. Maybe they can find their team, too.

Blast Off is SO GLAD he doesn't reach for his hand, too. "That is a good point... do you have any sense at all which direction we're going? It would be so useful if we could get a working compass, but... none of my internal scans seem to work anymore." He moves forward, then.... he slows, head tilting. "Did you hear... Mercy up ahead? I think she's nearby."

Nah, ditch those suckers. Just two lone rebels on the ru-- wait, no, of course they pick up their team. Rodimus even looks a little relieved to hear them again. "No, but I'm sure we'll get there." So ... the sense that Rodimus is relying on seems to be his sense of confidence. /Great/.

Blast Off looks to Rodimus. "Yes... I think I heard her. I think..." He suddenly realizes what he *thinks* isn't always what actually IS, but..." Well, anyway. IF it is them, we should be able to rejoin them shortly. But just in case it isn't..." His grip tightens on his weapon again, though it remains hanging at his side.

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