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.

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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.

Yes. Reformatting -- to assign us to a new position. A new job. But doing so leaves no room for our previous memories.

[It's one of the few things he knows a lot about in the world. And is... understandably bitter about.]

... You understand. And you aren't even from my world. That's... strange. [He pauses.] One of them did, though. In the end. [BUT HE'S NOT HERE.]

Unless they feel it's still their duty to bring in the fugitive.

[He has to ask, sorry.] But they didn't ask you? If you wanted this? [Jhiaxus never asked for volunteers either, but even Decepticons hadn't liked the scientist.]

Why is that strange? We're not from the same world but we have the same feelings, sentience, rights.

Or we should.

If one did, you can convince the others. [He hesitates, knowing there's a risk.] I know them, here. I've fought alongside them against an attack. They're good mechs.

I can try to talk to them. To find out, if nothing else.

Why would they?

[That's a serious question, sadly.]

Is it really so simple? Feeling, sentience. That means we can understand each other so easily?

[This is what you get for being so sheltered. Honest questions about things everyone should know.]

One... was -- is -- a special case. [Because that one knew him better than anyone else. He's just not sure how much to discuss it.]

You can, if you want to.

[That gets a surprised 'wait, what?' blink.] 'Why would they?' It's about you? You should have an opinion? [How does this not make sense to someone?]

Sentience doesn't mean we get along. But it means we can listen, cooperate.

[Drift tilts his head.] Special. So he listened to you?

I'll do my best. And I give you my word. They won't hurt you.

They designed me. Created me. They are human... I'm AI.

[And human lives are more important.]

[He nods.] He did. We -- we knew each other. For as long as he existed.

I...

[He has no idea what to say to that. No one has ever offered something like that before. Certainly not someone he's just met.]

Why are you doing this? You don't know me. I don't... I don't understand.

That doesn't mean they own you. No one owns another, your thoughts, your feelings, you. That's...slavery, or something worse.

...did he die? ['as long as he existed'? That would explain the mech's soft sorrow. ]

Because when I needed help, someone helped me. Twice. [Gasket. Wing. They'd helped him, even when he wasn't ready for it.] That's how life works. That's how I want it to.

((OOC: True to his word here

Slavery? [He looks confused. Again.] No, I... don't think it was like that. We are only AI -- I'm only AI.

[He jerks a little, and suddenly sharpens his tone:] No! No-- he's not dead. [The thought of it makes his AI want to twist up in knots.] I just... we're no longer able to see one another again. That's all.

Twice... [He's quiet, turning that over.] ... I appreciate it. It isn't something I'm accustomed to.

[His entire life has revolved around one other 'bot. This is new. This is a bit overwhelming.]

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