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Characters: @oxid @stitchtech Open to all autobots and their allies Location: Earth-(Possibly Medical Bay of Autobot outpost omega-1) Content Warnings: n/a to my knowledge Plot Summary: Running very low on Energon, Stitch Tech is about ready to merely give up. However things take a unexpected turn.
"Scrap scrap, SCRAP!!" Stitch Tech repeated as he leaned against a large rock.
With energon levels low, Stitch Tech was rather clumsy at the moment. Disoriented and getting dizzy, it was harder to focus with his half of gaze getting foggy. Rubbing his good optic, he tried to snap out of it. Wait...why was he trying to snap out of it? There was nothing!! No Cybertron, no friends...no fellow bots. Reaching to the side of his head where a circular disk wasn't cracked, he pushed the button that was there and the visor came out; only to cover his one eye. There...that was a little better honestly. Looking down at the ground, he took note on how heavy everything felt and that it didn't really feel like he was trying to move as he took a step once more.
A loud boom of thunder went off, causing the bot to freeze up for a moment. His eyes wide as he looked around nervously. Once again, this world's weather was playing tricks with his mind. Pulling the hood of his makehift coat up, he was a little protected from the water. Though he merely ended up leaning against the rock again and sliding down to be seated on the ground. The rain came down slowly as he sat there still, his one eye giving off the light blue energon glow in the confines of the hood.
"No point...should just remove my own spark.." Stitch Tech muttered.
It was just a matter of time now, with no resources of energon. It looked very grim for him.
Oxid turns his face to the stormy sky, fat raindrops running down his faceplates like tears. The trawler's lip components twitch into a smile beneath his mask, drinking in the beauty of this planet's weather. Still, he finds himself missing the biting sting of Cybertron's acid rain. A gnarled hand of lightning reaches down towards the landscape, the boom of thunder that follows shaking the ground under Oxid's pedes. He snorts in amusement.
'Nature is always too quick to remind people of its dangers,' he thinks to himself.
As much as he would like to study this planet's weather patterns, though, the interruption reminds him he came here for a very specific reason. If the rumors are to be believed, the Autobot army has set up camp on this backwater, organic world. It's hard to believe, but after thousands of years of chasing Oxid is willing to try out any lead. Turning on his heel, the trawler strides back into his small shuttle: the C ANKER.
Clang, clang, clang. He stomps his way over to the comms equipment. He'll try one last time to hail Autobots on this planet before he moves on. After a couple of days of shouting into an empty room he is about at the end of his rope. Fiddling with a few dials on the old machine, he settles on an frequency he hasn't seen used in a couple decades, his last option.
The message is brief. <<This is Oxid with the Autobot vessel Canker. If there is anyone nearby, please respond.>>
Shuddering as a sound hit his sensors, Stitch Tech didn't remember his damaged com. The only reason he had a Autobot frequency on his com was due to his creator being a aid to that side with him. Stitch didn't have the brand but his damaged com emitted the static as weak limbs raised to try and stop the noise.
"How does this...work..." Stitch Tech muttered as he fiddled with it. Then his optics went wide as the garbled static became clear, words came through, and the word Autobot made his spark flicker with surprise. There weren't bots on this planet...there couldn't be.
"Wait!!" Stitch Tech shouted as he scrambled to make his danamged comlink work. "Please... Is someone there? On thus rock? Hello?!"
To panicked and not knowing what he was doing, his com transmitted back in pieces. Transmitting this;
"Someone there...? Autobots ....here?" The message started, static appearing now and then as words were left out. "Damaged from crash, help.....please....no ener...."
And with that the com system that Stitch Tech had broke. The old crash damaged finally put it out of commission.
Oxid leans back from the comm equipment, a little surprised to receive any reply at all. His hand hovers over the dials. 'Did I really hear that?' he thinks. Perhaps all this time alone is starting to erode his sanity. Still, the trawler finds himself fiddling with the comm equipment's dials and settings to try and strengthen the signal. << This is the Oxid with the Canker. Please repeat. >>
The trawler remains stubbornly focused on trying to patch through to the strange mecha once more, his voice becoming hoarse from use. Finally, after endless shouting into the mic, he gives up with a huff. Clang. He slams his hand against the side of the comm equipment in an annoyed huff. A sizeable dent is left behind.
With no location to work off of, Oxid has one option left. He doesn't want to believe he's crazy, and so perhaps it is time to put his old search and rescue training to use. Pulling himself from his chair, he gathers his supplies and departs from the shuttle. In the intervening minutes the storm outside has gotten worse. Rain bullets against his frame, a painful sting that makes the trawler groan.
It lulls him back to memories of home. Squinting against the wind and biting rain, Oxid starts a search pattern. Occasionally, he shouts into the howling tempest, "If you can hear me, please respond!"
The coat helped a little to keep the rain off, though Stitch Tech remained put as the fabric got wetter. Giving a sigh as he sat there, his optics started to close slowly. He was tired and the lack of energon didn't help. He had tried to preserve his energon but it hadn't helped. About to resign to shutting offline for good, a voice like the one in his head earlier came. Only distant and in the wind. Black and a blue optic opened in surprise as the young not forced himself forward a bit. Looking around for a few moments.
"Hello?!" Stitch Tech called, forcing himself up to shaky legs. "Please be someone there!!! By Primus PLEASE!!!"
With the chance here, a sliver of hope made his spark a little stronger. A strong gust of wind blew his hood off, revealing his fave and damaged head piece. A step forward was all he could take before his low supplies of energon made his legs give out and he crashed to the ground.
"Frag...." Stitch Tech groaned as he tried to sit up.
Finally Oxid's efforts bear results. Over the howl of the buffeting wind, the trawler hears a shout; it's impossible to tell what they are trying to say. With a growl of determination, Oxid leans into the wind and fights his way towards the scrap of sound. It's not long until he sees a huddled mass on the ground.
From this distance it's impossible to tell what it is. The wet cloth sticking to the stranger's frame makes him look like some alien creature instead of a Cybertronian. Oxid approaches cautiously. Splat, splash, splat. His pedes churn up globs of mud as he comes closer.
"Hey, you! Were you the one on the radio earlier?!" he shouts. Even screaming at the top of his vocoder he's hard to hear over the wind. He's not entirely certain he is dealing with one of his own kind, but if not it's at least a species that has had contact with his own kind. Maybe even with the army he's looking for.
"You said something about damage?!" He takes one step closer, his spark dropping. Maybe it's too late. If this thing is dead that would explain why they couldn't respond earlier.
Sounds...not like the rain falling and sometimes the boom of thunder. Slowly Stitch Tech raised his head to see the large form before him. His one working eye flickered in color, a indication of his low energon levels as his spark struggled to stay strong.
"Please....ener..." Stitch Tech gasped as he tried to push himself up.
A gust of wind blew the hood off his head, revealing the old damage to his head where there was a piece missing with cracks in it. His left eye black with clear scraping and damage to it, making it non-usuable. The bot could just barely see it, the autobot badge on them.
"Help...please.." Stitch Tech requested, almost in a pleading tone.
Oxid feels a flicker of relief when he sees the bundle stir. With more urgency than before, the trawler steps up beside the mecha and hunches down to get a better look. A flicker of light sparks within the wet cloth, and the trawler finally sees that he has, indeed, found a Cybertronian. One that has seen better days, perhaps, but a Cybertronian.
"Energon, your said?!" he continues to shout despite their new-found proximity. Even on the best of days the trawler's gravely voice can be difficult to understand, much less during a tempest like this. He's not taking any chances he'll be misunderstood. "You couldn't have picked something else!"
With a growl of annoyance, the trawler sets down his pack and starts to ruffle through his supplies. He has a small cube here, buried somewhere. Energon is a precious resource these days and he can't spare much beyond that, but if it gets him news of the Autobot Army.... Well, he's willing to make the trade. Finally locating the container, he pulls it out and shoves it unceremoniously towards the stranger.
"If you've got the energy to moan, you've got the energy to live! Come on then!" he snaps.
Stitch Tech merely nodded, it was hard to sit up all the way. But he managed it as the cube was shoved towards him. He almost couldn't believe it! Was it real? It certainly felt real. Not questioning it further, the young not was quick to start eating it. The return of energy made him feel a lot better than he had in years.
"Thank you." Stitch Tech said as he looked up at Oxide. "I....I mean it. Thank you."
Even with more energon in his systems, he was still weak. Getting up on shaky legs, he staggered a bit as the wind blew harsher.
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
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