re_alignment | [audio]

Entry tags:

brave police: j-decker | kagerou

[audio]

[Behold! A new voice on the network. And... it sounds decidedly uncertain. Maybe a little shaky.]

[Hey, when you get electrocuted by thousands of volts out of nowhere before waking up somewhere you've never seen, you're bound to sound a little off. Not to mention completely overwhelmed.]

[And quite honestly, he doesn't know what to say right now. Asking the empty air for help? In a place he's never even heard of? Surrounded by sights and sounds and robots utterly foreign? That seems... odd. But what choice does he have?]

Someone... please. [He hesitates.] I don't understand what's happened.

I --

[And here is where the first bit of real panic seems to show through. Sure, he got the explanation, but--] I don't remember coming here. Or ever hearing of such a place.

Please answer me.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

You're on Cybertron. Sort of. A version of it.

[The reaction startles Drift: the Brave Police he's met have been good fighters, with honor. He'd be happy to claim them as friends.]

Er. Well, the reason I asked was we don't have a lot of gasoline here, which is their fuel. I thought you might need it, if you were like them. That's all.

I've never heard of this place.

[Granted, he lived pretty much his entire life in isolation, but still.]

[He doesn't seem to relax, regardless of the explanation.]

I was constructed like them. But I'm not one of them. They... [He stops. There's more important things here.] If there isn't any gasoline... how do you run?

[Don't all robots need gas?]

[A rueful shrug.]

To be honest the only way I'd ever heard of Earth is the Decepticons had tried to conquer it once.

[He furrows his brow at the start of the story, and its abrupt cut off. It's not his place to push. If anyone knows the value of one's privacy about one's past, it's Drift. ]

We? We run on energon. You'd have to ask one of the medics the details. [Drift does not do science.]

If you're made like them then Ratchet can do the same conversion on you he did on them. If you want

Decept... icons?

[Sorry, the word comes out pretty mangled. He tilts his head. Being curious is a surefire way of calming down after... whatever just happened. A distraction, at the very least.]

Energon? [Obviously it's a fuel, so there's no need to ask for clarification on that point.] A medic? What would a human know about... any of this?

[HAHA because only humans are doctors, right?] I am made like them. The same basic engine... improved on. To an extent.

One of the factions in a war. [He shrugs. The name doesn't matter. Not really. If only he could get Starscream to understand that.]

You'll see them here, with purple insignias.

Our medics are like us, Cybertronian. [He'd let Vandal look at his ankle mechanisms, but he really wasn't sure she could repair much.] We're not like the Brave Police. Humans didn't make us.

[He nods.] Then you may need gasoline. I'll see what I can find.

War? You... are involved in a war?

[What. Robots fighting robots? What is this madness you speak.]

You have your own engineers? You... Who did make you?

[A pause. He's oddly taken aback by the offer. Someone... offering to help? What is this even.]

You will? Why?

Were. The war's over, even back on my Cybertron.

[Just...over. He couldn't really say who had won. It seemed at times that everyone had lost.]

We do. Medics.

There are myths of the Knights of Cybertron, or our gods, creating us. But they're long gone.

[Sorry, stranger, but Drift has a thing against robots starving to death.]

I spent a long time in my life--before the war--starving, or forced to steal just to live.

No one should have to live like that. [There's still, after all this time, almost a hint of anger in his voice. He hasn't been a Decepticon for a long time, but that doesn't mean he forgave the Cybertron that drove him to it.] No one.

You were... fighting each other? Why?

[He really can't understand. Why would robots be fighting each other? He hadn't even attacked the Brave Police when he'd been fleeing them.]

Gods? [A beat.] What are... those?

[Did we mention Kagerou is incredibly sheltered?]

If there isn't any gasoline here, it may happen, regardless of how you feel.

[And that's terrifying.]

Visions of the future. The past, when it started, was bad. Some didn't see it that way because they could live their whole lives without it bothering them. But some of us saw it every day, couldn't escape it.

The war began when those who wanted change rose up against those who were fine with the way things were.

And now, neither side's won and we barely have a planet to have a future on.

[He grins.] Gods. Ancient history, Primus, Mortilus, Adaptus, who created our kind, and gave us life and the ability to transform.

[Drift's grin fades. ] No. We'll find a way to help. No one should die of starvation.

A change... to make things better. Striking out because there is no alternative. [He pauses.] I... understand that.

[He'd done the same thing, after all.]

Human beings built me. Designed me. Does that... make them like your 'gods'?

Yes. I prefer to live. [That's the understatement of the century there.] What do they call you?

We did. We fought so that we could live, so that they'd have to notice us, hear us, realize that their 'perfect' world wasn't so perfect.

But we went too far, in the end.

[He's not hiding his past. He still can't entirely repudiate that choice--to fight, because no one else would, to stand for something.]

[He frowns.] I don't know. Our gods are long gone.

Please let us help you, at least this much. [A smile.] Drift.

[Wow. That sounds familiar. Scarily familiar, in fact. Like someone read a page out of his personal history. He's quiet a minute or two.]

I understand. I understand... exactly. To be driven to such lengths, when you have no other options left.

[He still hesitates.] I can't stop you, if you really want to help.

[A beat.] I am Kagerou.

[More like Drift's own history.]

Yes. Exactly. And we fell into the pattern of violence, because we thought it would solve everything.

[Drift frowns.] I wouldn't help you if you refused. You have that right, too. [At least as far as Drift is concerned. Ratchet might feel otherwise.]

Kagerou. [He nods.] Do you have a way to protect yourself? [It may seem random, but he doesn't trust this place to be safe. Korra's disappeared, Annie's disappeared--they need to stick together to be safe. ]

Because you're left with no other alternative... no way out. No choice, if you want to live...

[He folds his arms around himself, shoulders hunched.] I want to live. Your help is the only way I can do that.

[Not really a choice either, is it?]

[Though, in answer to the question, chain links rattle. The weapon slides into his hand -- a hand-held sickle attached to a long, weighted chain. He holds it up.]

I can fight.

[Drift nods.]

Honestly, even after all this time, I almost resent them for it. Forcing us to steal, just to live; then to fight, just to be heard. [He sounds guilty, like he knows he shouldn't feel that way. He should move past it, especially if he expects others to do the same.]

I'll help you any way I can. What do you need, other than gasoline? [He still wants to talk Kagerou into getting the conversion the others are getting, but...slowly. Later.]

[A brisk nod.] That's good. We've already had one attack here. Do you need a place to stay?

What did they expect? Pushing a living thing so close to the edge... did they really think you would allow yourselves to go over? To die for their reasons?

[Or to be erased for their reasons...?]

I don't know. Is... there something else I should need?

[As long as there's fuel and no one trying to delete his memory files... it should be enough, right? And he really doubts this stranger can bring him someone instead.]

Attack? From what?

They expected us to die. [It still hurt. Another wasted spark, another useless frame, scavenged so that others could live a little longer.]

And that's what war is: Dying for someone else's reasons.

[It's why he doesn't do it anymore.] Better to live for your own reasons.

[Drift shrugs.] I've made do with less, but there's more out there. Friends, allies. A safe place to stay. [Probably more than those, too, but he's still learning this himself.]

We're not sure who was behind the attack. Yet. Someone was controlling some feral robots, with lots of teeth. It could happen again, and we should be ready for it.

... War isn't the only place you're expected to die for another's reasons. It happens more often than just that.

[A beat.] I... don't know what that's like. What is it, to live for your own reasons?

[He'd never gotten the chance to -- not that he remembers. He just barely got the chance to leave before ending up here. And now? Now he isn't... sure what to do with himself.]

I have no friends. Not here.

[He says it so matter-of-factly. He's only stating a fact, not lamenting anything.]

Feral... robots? They were not sentient?

It's the only one I know. [But his tone of voice says he's all too aware that there are so many things he doesn't know.]

You can make some. [He's about to volunteer himself, the words are on his lip plates, but he doesn't want to be too pushy.] ...there are good mechs here.

Not like us. No real thoughts or feelings. Just violence, the desire to kill.

Maybe it's a better one, than the only one I know. If you changed things, maybe... it's better.

I wouldn't know where or how to start. [His head tilts.] You're all strangers to me. Strangers and... those who would see me captured.

Not AI, then. War machines.

[Said very softly,] _{What do you know?} [He wants to be trusted, but he knows from his own past how hard it can be to trust.]

We changed things, but we got lost along the way; lost our purpose, lost sight of what was paying the price. [ An uncomfortable shrug. ]

[He knows that Wing would say something now like 'strangers are just friends you haven't yet met' or something. He's not Wing. He wishes he were.]
Strangers can become friends. If you give them a chance.

[Not quite as smooth as Wing. But he's trying. But he frowns at the second part, forgetting his pledge to himself to be gentle, not to scare the other robot. He can't help that his protective mode kicks in.] Who? Who wants to capture you?

[He draws himself up a little. This robot seems like he might understand... so...]

I am a prototype. I was meant to be... reformatted, when my work was finished. And I decided I didn't want to die.

[Because having his memory wiped? To him, it means the same thing as dying.]

I'm... sorry, then. For your fighting.

[Is that what you say? Do you apologize for that kind of thing? How do social skills work.]

A chance. [He just sort of repeats it, debating it. Then straightens up again to answer the question.]

The Brave Police.

So you were...an experiment? Something like that? [He can't help but think of Monstructor, the Insecticons, Arcee. Jhiaxus's victims, all of them.] And they were done with you and that was it? [He sounds almost angry.]

[But he struggles to control himself. ] There's nothing wrong with wanting to live. And everything wrong with wanting to kill someone because they've outlived your usefulness. [He is really becoming a non-fan of science.]

The...are you sure? [McCrane? Gunmax? It's hard to imagine.]

Something... like that, yes. I finished my work. Did as I was asked to. They ordered me reformatted... reassigned.

[He looks down.] They didn't see it as death. No one... understood what it meant. To lose everything I knew -- to forget.

[A nod.]

They were sent to capture me. Arrest me. Whichever they call it, it was what they were ordered to do.

Reformatted. [He frowns. Forget?] Erasing your memories?

How is that not death? Who you are, everything you care about...gone?

[Sometimes, Drift thinks it would be nice to forget. Sometimes it would feel like laying down a burden. But that burden was who he was. It was his, it was him. He'd never let it be taken from him against his will.]

But whoever sent them to do that: they're not here. They have no motive to capture you now.

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