re_alignment | [Video][Broadcasting from the Junk Pile at end of Event]

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[Video][Broadcasting from the Junk Pile at end of Event]

[McCrane, currently, sounds much more flustered than he has in past broadcasts. Granted, 'much more flustered' for him doesn't amount to more than a slight urgency in his voice, but considering both Gunmax and Drift have just collapsed he feels a need to be urgent.]

This is McCrane.

We have two men in need of repairs, and we are unable to ferry them to one of the temples.

[This is guilt. Gunmax, he knows, is down because of fuel, and both he and Deckerd are too low themselves to tow him anywhere. To illustrate the severity of the situation, he points his badge toward where the motorcycle detective is lying, optics flickering even as he insists to a very-worried Deckerd that he's perfectly okay. Beyond, Drift is lying in a puddle of his own rust, not obviously injured but not moving, optics offline.]

Ratchet? Knockout? Is there anyone available with mechanical expertise?

((OOC: This is a communal post. Replies may be from McCrane, Deckerd, Gunmax, or, if he snaps out of it, Drift. Also please feel free to actionspam arrivals!))

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[No, guilt buuuuuurns, Wing. He's in enough pain from, you know, pain.]

...I've been worse?

[Also true. Also probably worrying. ]

No. Wing. Really. I'll be fine. Go help others. Gunmax. Gunmax needs you more. I think he's dying.

[Ow that was a lot of words.]

[Comes with the territory ~~boy~~friend!]

... Well, try not to change that part at least? Please?

[Gunmax's condition is worrisome, but he's not sure he believes that bit about you being fine. That's 'Go worry about someone else who deserves/needs it more' in the Drift lexicon.]

We'll decide who goes first when I get there. Are there any medics present yet?

_{don't think I can this time.}

[You...didn't hear that.]

[Augh no, please don't come here! Drift will die of embarrassment.]

They're coming. It's no big deal. I'll be fine. Just need to rest a klik.

[And right now, he'll be trying to crawl away so you can't find him.]

I'm going to pretend I didn't hear that. [His tone says, 'Don't you dare!']

[Too late. He swoops in, some minor battle damage of his own but nothing too serious, and lands at a jog.]

You can't help others if you don't help yourself Drift.

[And by the Light if he finds out you've trying to run from him he'll tell Ratchet all about this and let him do the yelling.]

[Heard what? You heard nothing!]

[When Wing approaches, Drift is curled into a ball, about three lengths from where he'd been when you saw him on McCrane's feed, optics squeezed shut. Combat he could handle. But this? This hurt. ]

_{please help gunmax}

[He'll be pretending not to hear that, and pretending not to worry, and pretending not to fawn over you either.]

[Seeing people in pain is one of the things that troubles Wing most. Drift, you are no exception to that. Wing kneels near you and puts a comforting hand on your shoulderguard as he speaks in serious tones to McCrane. His thumb strokes gently over the armor, his EM field carefully controlled but with a soft edge of comfort.]

I plan to help you both Drift.

_{I'm fine}. [His voice is small and miserable and muffled and trying really hard to believe the words he's saying. Because he doesn't feel fine. He feels awful. ]

[A little louder, one hand curling out of the ball of metal to cling to Wing's fingers for a klik.] This just...hurts. Gunmax keeps passing out. He needs it more.

[It's not false modesty there, it's simply triage. Gunmax might die. He needs a medic far more than Drift.]

I know you're fine Drift. [And your EM field is telling him exactly how "fine" you are.]

[He slides his palm against yours, offering. His presence is full of focused determination and caring concern. No judgement. No pity.] We're working on a plan for Gunmax. He needs fuel first and foremost.

Do you know what's causing this?

[Yeah, well, Wing, Drift can tell when he's being patronized. But he takes the hand, twining his fingers with Wing's for a moment, allowing himself that much comfort. ]

I know. Gasoline. That's what they need. Should have seen him in action, though. [A weak smile, before pulling away, turning his face to the ground.]

[He...really doesn't want to purge his tanks in front of Wing.]

Poison, maybe? Maybe a venomous one bit me.

[He has been nipped a lot recently.]

[He doesn't mean it that way, but even Mister Say-The-Right-Thing has a 10% chance of doing the exact opposite. He gives your fingers a soft squeeze, grateful for that much, wishing he could do more.]

Oh? So that devastation I flew over was all him? I'm sorry I missed it. [He returns the smile touched with a bit of awe; that idea is moderately mind boggling and he's really going to have to hear the whole story later.] It looks like Knock Out and Breakdown are here with something potentially useful.

[Wing would really rather you didn't too, though not out of any sense of distaste. He just doesn't want to see you get worse.]

I don't like the sound of that.

[Poison usually needed an antidote. Antidotes were usually best derived from their source. And how many different creatures had Drift fought today?]

[He's still used to Preachy!Wing who really did know it all. And a lifetime of hiding weakness as a simple survival mechanism isn't a habit easily broken.]

Mostly them. [Hey, he has his pride. It's just hard to see under all this wincing. But some of those dead sharkticons have sword cuts on them. Ahem.]

Good. They're nice mechs. [From what little dealings he's had with them.]

_{not fond of it myself} [He manages a wan smile, but releases Wing's hand, reluctantly.]

Look a little beat up yourself. [He's attempting to sound scolding, but maybe it doesn't quite work in these circumstances.]

[Maybe his luck was just really good. And Wing doesn't expect you to break that habit anytime soon, so he'll just play along. ]

I'm sure you had a more than noteworthy contribution. [Because that's just what happens when you join the battlefield, Drift.] You'll have to tell me the whole story later.

[He nods.] From all I've seen, yes. It's a relief.

[Wing is just as reluctant to let you go and opts not to take his hand back, rather, his other hand comes up to cover yours.] I'm still waiting to see, but it sounds like they might not need me. How do you feel about moving?

[Oh, what, these scratches?] Mostly just messy. Strings like the Pit though. [He smiles despite himself.] You can scold me properly later.

[Drift isn't a big believer in luck other than the kind you make yourself.]

I...helped. [He realizes, too late, how arrogant he'd sounded. He shouldn't want attention or recognition: what should matter is that they succeeded. All of them.]

[He doesn't resist when the hand covers his, but he does lower his optic shutters, just trying to feel. Well, feel something else other than this scouring pain.]

_{I can move}. [He'll just need to gather his strength here. For...a long time. He groans, trying to push up onto his elbow. See? He can get up.]

Not 'just scratches'. If I've been poisoned, you might be too.

[No one would fault you for that, certainly not Wing.]

I assumed Drift. It's your way now. [You've done nothing but prove that to him since the day you both arrived, and you likely don't even realize it.]

Wing lets his fingers trail over the back of your hand. The movements soon form into a pattern, slow and steady,
as if trying to provide a counterpoint to the pain, something to focus on. But there's also a certain reverence to it, a gratitude at being allowed to touch.]

Don't move too much, yet... Maybe we should have Knock Out take a look before we go on any joyrides. [His tone stays light, because's been enough heaviness in so many of their other words.]

The thing that attacked me wasn't poisonous, I'd be showing symptoms by now if that were the case. [He'd tell you the full truth, but you've got enough to deal with right now.]

[Drift shrugs off the compliment: you haven't really seen much, these last centuries. He's not sure if he's doing good or not.]

You're taking a lot on faith, Wing. [Then again, you always had.]

[He sighs at the touches, wishing he could enjoy them more. Wishing they weren't here on a battlefield, Drift curling around pain. ]

[But he might not get another chance: Pharma was telling him his spark could give out.]

[He groans pushing upward.] Really, Wing. I don't need a medic. I'll be fine. [Until his spark gives out. The worry probably shows on his face.]

Tell me what happened. [It's about as much of a demand he can give right now.]

[Well he's got plenty of opportunity now.]

I am. [He smiles at you.] Sometimes faith is all we have. Would you be on your quest if that weren't the case?

[Wing continues the pattern, dipping into the gap between each finger, gentle but persistent, much like himself. A touch of a smile at your sigh; he's happy to give you something more than pain, but wishing he could do more. Hoping there'd be a better chance to later.]

[No, he will get the chance later.]

Drift... [His voice is a mixture of imploring bemusement. He moves one hand to the join of your neck and shoulder.] If you keep moving like that I'm going assume you're well enough to escort me to Ratchet's.

[A broader smile this time. Your concern beyond yourself, even now, is unwavering.] I answered Blurr's distress call. You may have missed it, I think you were busy with--[he gestures around you both]--all of this at the time. When I got there he was having trouble with that purple seeker, whom I had to shoo away. He gave me a few parting gifts.

I believe, because it's easier to than not believe in anything.

[It sounds kind of cowardly when he puts it like that. ]

[He sighs, spreading his fingers to allow the touch. There are others in greater need than he is, and Wing really should go help them, but just this once he'll be selfish. ]

I don't need Ratchet. I just need....recharge. Or energon. Or.._something.

[See? Nothing important. Nothing major.]

....purple. Skywarp? Is Skywarp here?

[That would be bad news. Starscreams were at least consistent and in a sense, predictable. Skywarp...wasn't.]

[A chuckle.] Some might argue it the other way around. Belief can take courage, which is not easy for some to come by.

[Wing's memorized every contour of your hand now, something he would happily do for every meter of this new frame you have, given a better time and place. Instead he releases a small sigh that echoes yours, exploring the lengths of your fingers as part of the pattern now.]

Ratchet's going to yell at us both regardless. If we don't go, there might also be thrown objects involved when he finally tracks us down. You may like to live dangerously but I prefer to stay in the good graces of my medic. [He shrugs, as if daring you to fault his logic.] Besides, there's no energon here and I think I could find you a more comfortable place to recharge. [That...sounds a bit like an offer.]

Skywarp? [There's a name he's never heard before.] No. The more...abrasive of the three Starscreams, the one from Blurr's universe. I get the feeling there's history there.

Or it can take desperation and the fact that anything is better than where you are now.

[Compliment: deflected. He'd believed in Megatron's words at the beginning, had faith in him. And....look how that had ended.]

[Sure, you're saying nice words, Wing. But. Ratchet. The Medic of Snark. Who will somehow manage to blame this on Drift. At least the 'not going right away' part.] You're assuming he has 'good' graces in the first place.

[Which Drift doubts.]

[He frowns.] You didn't take on him alone. [There is one right answer to this question.]

Well yes, belief has its place there too. A good one, actually.

[Sorry, faith just likes to counter cynicism, they suit each other in that way.]

[You're afraid of a ~~not so~~ little medic Drift? Wing can protect you, if that's what you're worried about.]

He seems to like me. [Wing pouts a little. Unless Ratchet's a faker...?]

Uhhhh. [That sounds a tad evasive.] Blurr was there.

No. [He doesn't want to argue with you, Wing, but here you're wrong.] Others can take your hope, your faith, and twist it, use it for their own purpose.

[Drift manages a weak snort.] Everyone likes you.

[You also didn't make the leaky, horrible first impression Drift did.]

[Drift may be ready to barf his roboguts out, but he's not stupid.] Blurr. Was. There. [Have a pointed look. Nice use of the passive voice, Wing.] And?

That's the risk I suppose. [Still, Wing would rather have it than not.]

[He looks away a moment, his hand going still, then he shrugs.] Starscream obviously doesn't.

[But that's fine. He doesn't need acknowledgement from everyone. Only a select few.]

It looks like Knock Out might finish up with Gunmax soon. [Was that going to distract Drift from the scratches topic? Nope, apparently not.]

Blurr'd collapsed by the time I got there. Non-responsive. And Starscream was aiming to make sport of him in a very damaging way. [He shrugs. It is what it is.] I had to intervene.

The risk. [He can't hide that last scrap of bitterness, anger at himself. He'll never have Wing's self-confidence, and that's why--he's seen how far he could fall, and fall willingly into it.]

Starscream doesn't like anyone; at least not as much as he loves himself. [Oh, Drift knew him. From way, way back.]

[Drift cranes his head, trying to look. ] Gunmax is better, right? And his friend?

Collapsed? [Okay, that's enough feeling puddly and watching Blurr and letting himself be petted by Wing. Drift groans, trying to push to his feet.] Where is he?

What other choice to we have? [His voice carries a measure of sadness.]

It certainly seems that way. [He'd heard enough about Starscream from the beginning of the war. Hoping that might have changed was likely too much to ask.]

It looks like they're siphoning fuel for Gunmax.

[Wing puts a hand on your shoulder. Not exactly holding you back but more...waiting in ready position should you get any ideas about sudden ~~lurching~~ ~~standing~~ lurching.]

Blurr's awake and fine for now. I handled it and get him to safety. I left him at Liege's since it was the closest place to refuel, the situation here is more pressing.

Hope, but not blindly.

Harder to do than it looks.

[He hopes. Or if not, he was easily fooled. ]

Siphoning. From the others. [That's not good. They needed the fuel, too.] We need to find them more gasoline.

[He is definitely getting ideas about standing. However, his body is having equal ideas about being facedown. It's a toss up.]

And you? And Starscream?

[Video][Broadcasting from the Junk Pile at end of Event]

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