Transformers Prime: Convergence is a plot and character-development driven roleplay forum based upon canon material of TFP and RiD, but incorporates characters, elements, and plotlines from various other continuities to craft a unique story. Our community is welcoming, laid back, and dedicated to making each roleplay experience a good one.
Transformers Prime: Convergence is in no way affiliated with Hasbro, and copyrights and trademarks (including names, images, etc.) are held by their respective owners. All original content remains the property of individual writers and artists. Main header banner, board graphics, and theme by Counterklock.
Characters: @cyclonus, Rodimus, Open to others as well Location: Ireland Content Warnings: Probable violence, blood, and injuries Plot Summary: Cyclonus attempts to scout out vague energon readings in the mires of Ireland, but the region is having an odd effect on his scanner, making it difficult to pinpoint. Will he come across more than just energon?
The semi-solid organic of the mire matter clung to Cyclonus and seeped into the internals of his feet and lower half of his legs. Fog hung low, further reducing any sort of pleasure that one might have derived from an assignment such as this. As he ducked to avoid yet another tree limb, Cyclonus consulted his energon scanner once more.
“Hrm…”
It was as vaguely unhelpful as it had been for the past breem. It gave him a general idea of which direction to go, but something about this organic environment was confusing its sensors. A flicker of light in the corner of his optic sent Cyclonus whirling around to face a possible opponent. But it was nothing.
Well, not nothing. Spontaneous combustion actually. While the first time he had seen once had set him on guard, he was accustomed to this particular oddity by now. Other worlds had similar phenomena. However, that did not simply mean that he could ignore it. There was the potential for Autobot attack. Additionally, it flashed a blue reminiscent of raw energon, which was why he was here in the first place.
As he ventured onward, Cyclonus caught sight of a silhouette in the fog ahead. It was vaguely reminiscent of a mechanoid, so he readied his weapon. It could simply be a tree. They took odd forms in his environment, but one could not be too safe. Then came the question of whether he should strike or attempt to go closer.
For the moment, Cyclonus took cover low beside a tree near him, his optics watching to see if the form moved and his audios trained to hear if it made sound.
Yes, Pharma was well aware that the Wreckers were more than enough to handle themselves in the mines. But he felt useless hiding away in a med-bay. He didn't flee Delphi, let alone Messatine to cower forever. And after helping Ratchet with a rescue, he didn't intend to just let others fight. Not anymore. He didn't know that anyone was there, neither Cyclonus nor Rodimus. He couldn't make out their distinct shapes from the air.
The fog itself was thicker than the reinforcement of a quarantine chamber at Delphi, and every bit as eerie as the droning of his own turbines within his engines. The readings were peaking in this area, and he finally couldn't go any further. He would slow his descent, carefully transforming.
Two silhouettes were nearby. His wings twitched anxiously; in this fog, it was hard to see who was friend, and who was foe. Oh how he wished he had brought the Apex Armor with him! But he had left it behind with Ratchet in case. Ratchet needed it more at the moment, he had convinced himself, as patients often needed the fuel more than a medic.
That had been the first thing Coghweel had taught him--the needs of the many often outweighed the needs of the one. Sometimes sacrifices had to be made. Sometimes sacrifices had to be made and that was what any good medic knew.
And he wanted to desperately believe he was a good medic.
The heavy matter that clung to his pedes slowed him, made noises he was entirely uncomfortable. These fens of organic matter were not a good introduction to trying to get acquainted with field work. Still, they were better than his other option, trying to seek energon in the freezing cold of a tundra.
He seemed to crouch, his wings canting backward slightly to hide themselves, make him look smaller. He had to observe the situation, though the fog made it hard to see.
Of course Rodimus had volunteered to leave the base and follow up on a high energy signal in the middle of absolute nowhere. No one else would be there and it'd be a good chance to kick back and do absolutely nothing. How could he pass that up?
Upon arrival to the signal, his scanners and communication systems were immediately scrambled. How nice! Now base couldn't object to him, even if they wanted to! It was exciting to be in the field again, but really, this mission was routine. Nothing here. Nothing to be seen.
That was, until he caught sight of something. Exactly what it was was a mystery. He swore he heard the sound of a blaster charging, but that could have just been a trick of his newfound paranoia. A quick glance around found the fog devoid of anything. Couldn't hurt to call out and see if anyone was there, could it?
A voice cut across the fog and organic muck. One that Cyclonus felt was…familiar. He had heard it many times before, but he couldn’t quite place it here. Not that it meant that the source was a friendly. No, it could very well be that the originator was in fact an enemy. Highly possible. And likely given that Cyclonus had been assigned this mission alone, though he could not rule out the possibility given the communication issues.
As such, what should his present course be?
Cyclonus could fire upon the source of the voice, but it was likely to be ineffective and give away his position. Alternatively, there may be more enemy or ally forces in the area. Calling out a reply would offer more information on that front…Intelligence gathering was the less risky gambit. Seeing as there were indeed communication issues, the situation dictated caution.
“Identify yourself!” Cyclonus called out for a moment longer, his weapon at the ready. In any case, a response would help narrow down the location of this unknown element.
A voice had cut through the fog, and for a moment, Pharma stilled. He knew better than to speak up if the two were about to have conflict. He was slow about moving, trying to keep an element of stealth about himself while he slogged through the bog. He would listen for the sources of the voices, trying to draw closer to the area without giving himself away.
He heard the snarl and his vents hitched, seeming to echo slightly with the way the slats of his vents clapped. He tensed tightly and swallowed hard, gripping his tracker tighter. Could they hear the slats snapping closed?
He slogged closer cautiously, unsure of who was friend, who was foe. The filth of the fen stuck to him and clung hard, like the ice and snow of Messatine.
Rodimus swore he recognized the mech that voice belonged to. It was so familiar, and yet not. He scoured his memorybanks to match it to a designation, but nothing came. He remained hiding for now; it was much safer than rushing into this, especially at the risk of energon pooling and sparking an explosion should blaster fire ensue.
"Rodimus Prime, Co-Captain of the Lost Light, currently working under Optimus Prime," he waited a moment before interjecting again. "Identify yourself."
Rodimus…Prime? Cyclonus’s optics narrowed. No, that was impossible. Optimus was the only living Prime, and the matrix had not once chosen two at the same time in all of the vorns that Cyclonus had been alive. This mech had to be a charlatan. Yet something was….undeniably familiar about that name as well. Something that evoked an odd mix of emotion from him, which was odd in itself.
Clutching his chest, Cyclonus scowled. He had sworn that he had heard that ship name as well. But he could not recall from where. Most peculiar. His memory was not usually this poor. No, he could not let his unbalance him. Pushing back the emotions and confusion with militant discipline, Cyclonus answered the returning query.
“I am Cyclonus of Tetrahex,” he answered, pausing for a moment as he glanced out from behind cover, optics searching for this Rodimus, “I formerly served Galvatron, but now serve Megatron.”
Cyclonus whirled about. He had heard something close by. Someone else. Were they flanking him? He fired off a few shots in the direction that he’d heard the sound, diving out of his current cover and crouching behind some new cover that an embankment and other tree offered.
"Hey! Hey!" Cyclonus sounded like an awfully familiar designation, but Rodimus couldn't place him. He swore that Cyclonus was a member of the crew when they'd left Cybertron on the Lost Light. He moved from his cover, servos raised but a serious look on his face.
"I heard that too, but don't just shoot freely. There's Energon pooling in this bog, and if you accidentally shoot it we'll all die. Alright?" Roddy reasoned, trying to see if he could pick out who this mysterious third was.
Rodimus. One of them was Rodimus. For a moment, Pharma felt his struts relax if only slightly. However, they tensed at the second voice again. Cyclonus. He had heard rumors but nothing concrete about a mech by that name. All he knew was that the mech existed--at least until he heard the next words and tensed tighter. Serving Megatron. There was an unpredictable element to those Decepticons who served Megatron. Past experience had taught him this.
The first shot had grazed and scorched the edge of one of his wings. The second had passed close to his audial, and the third had also been too close for comfort. He flicked the wing back and hissed in pain.
"AUGH!" He then tried to draw closer to the sound of Rodimus' voice, trying to shake the muck off. "Medic Pharma. I'm unarmed..." Technically, that was a lie. Medics always had at least one armament, though medics were also often the ones who were the most reluctant to use medical tools in such a fashion. Not to mention he kept his gun tucked away. No need to reveal that. But now it would be more difficult to get the jump on Cyclonus. If at all. It wasn't as though he could see where the shots had come from. Accursed fog.
"Rodimus. I'm here to help find the energon deposit."
Cyclonus’s optics narrowed as he looked in the rough direction of Rodimus, focusing in better now that the captain had moved from cover. What would that buffoon rather him do? Allow them to get flanked by an unknown element? Please. Still, he spoke some small degree of sense, so Cyclonus lowered his weapon. He stepped out from his own cover and moved to approach Rodimus, feeling a familiar sense of ease.
As he did, Cyclonus noted that he had hit an unarmed medic. The fool. Ought to have known better than to sneak around like that in what was a tense situation. Pharma. Cyclonus felt that he had perhaps heard of that designation from somewhere before, but apparently, he was here to help.
As Cyclonus drew near to Rodimus, he looked out toward the sounds of the bog, watching carefully as he heard sounds of the approach of this Pharma. “Rodimus, you’re here to find an energon deposit as well?” Cyclonus asked.
Wait.
Cyclonus frowned. Something was horrendously off about this situation. He just couldn’t quite…place what.
Ah. Only Pharma. Nothing to be concerned about. Except that, somewhere within, he felt like that should come as a concern. Like Pharma was someone he shouldn’t trust, though why that was eluded him. Pharma was an Autobot medic, and a good one at that. No cause for concern.
When Cyclonus drew closer, Rodimus was put at ease. For what reason? He couldn’t identify. Something about the situation felt off. Why had Cyclonus introduced himself as working under Megatron? Megatron was an Autobot? Or maybe he wasn’t, and that had just been a dream...
“Yeah, I was sent to investigate the readings. It looks like this...swamp is just screwing with the sensors. I can’t get a clear read on anything. I say though, that if we do find Energon, we just split it and call it good. Fighting here could be really dangerous, and I don’t think whatever amounts of Energon this bog has to offer is worth any of us dying.”
Perhaps it was stupid of him, the sneaking. He wasn't Ratchet, by a long shot, and he wasn't exactly built for stealth from the ground, not with his clod-hopping large pedes and those wide wings at the shoulders. Maybe this was why he had been the "cowardly" one who hid back at the base and let others do missions.
No. No, it was because he'd grown complacent, used to hiding somewhere, and in fact hiding in general. After all, that was his life at Delphi, right? Hiding from his behavior, hiding from his fellow medics. Hiding the truth. Hiding. Hiding. HIDING!
"Agreed. We're...we're all Cybertronians here. We have the same need for the same resources. If we find it, you take half, we take half. Fair's fair." He tried to keep the calming tone of voice a medic had to be known for in dire situations. However, faint hints of panic betrayed his voice. He still wasn't quite over being shot at, even if it was his own fault.
As Pharma approached, a myriad of thoughts and feelings raced through Cyclonus’s processor, defying his attempts to make sense of them. He trusted this Rodimus. Even felt an unusual comfort around him as if he were a long-time comrade. But as Pharma drew near, he grew apprehensive. The medic gave him an ill feeling. It set him on edge once again.
And it struck him.
As it should. These were Autobots! For the love of all things holy, what was he doing?! Memories flicked through his mind. Of Galvatron and of Rodimus and fighting him and his Autobots. But also of visiting Rodimus in his quarters to lodge a complaint for…something. What was this?! Either Rodimus was enemy or ally. Not both.
For the first time, Cyclonus’s instincts failed him. It was both perplexing and horribly vexing. What was left to fall back on was logic and facts. These were Autobots. He was a Decepticon. They were at war. And he had a mission to accomplish. The Autobots wanted a compromise, but doing so would be a violation of his loyalty to Megatron.
The Decepticons had many mines all across the globe. The Autobots surely had a much more limited supply. As such, the correct course would be to ensure relative victory for the Decepticons. “As reasonable as your request is, I’m afraid that I am not in a position to oblige you.”
Cyclonus knew what he must do. He needed to blow up the bog, and hopefully, take the Autobots out with it. But…again, something gave him pause. He did not wish to harm Rodimus. Bah, he could not stand this. He must know. He looked at Rodimus with narrowed crimson optics. “Do I…know you?”
Wary blue optics kept themselves fixed on Cyclonus; he didn't remember Cyclonus too well. The face didn't really register to him as familiar at all, nor did the name other than a few historical facts. He knew Cyclonus was dangerous.
Rodimus, he felt, was safer. He was an Autobot. He represented what was still safe, what was still good, what was still righteous in this universe. Represented to things he aspired to be once more after everything that had happened back on Messatine, back at Delphi Medical Center. Represented the freedom that made him whole, though he was no longer the same. The game had changed.
And it had changed harshly.
"And why is that? Your so-called lord and master?" He snapped sharply. The dire situation had clouded his judgment somewhat and instead of losing control of his tools, he had lost control of his mouth.
He would make the movement to step back, shaking the muck off his pede slightly. No, he wasn't disgusted. He needed to be prepared in case he needed to take flight--whether to save Rodimus, or protect himself. Be prepared. Be efficient. Those were two of the mottoes of the Autobot Medical Corps.
Shoutbox
Please respect the space and don't hesitate to ask questions!
altria : please dont be dead?
Jun 14, 2023 22:40:34 GMT
Partia: Is this still alive?
Dec 17, 2022 6:02:02 GMT
Partia: Is this still alive?
Dec 17, 2022 6:01:34 GMT
Check here for the latest
