[The kid lies on his back on the large slab that's supposed to be a bed, arms folded behind his head as he stares up at the ceiling. Never mind how he got up on the thing.]

So I've been wondering... are we...not supposed to be here? Like- we weren't expected? All the rooms here are gigantic. I know we were told how we got here, but no one's really mentioned "why"...

[Slowly he sits up, drawing knees towards his chest so he can rest his arms over them. Nice as it is to have a place to stay at all, its sheer size just makes it all the more lonely, especially for its emptiness.]

Also, I guess I'm supposed to talk to someone named Prima? This temple is his or something, right? Does he live here? Um. Well, I guess it can't hurt, right? -Mister Prima, if you've got a moment?

[In general, Tuck is a smart kid. Things like this pad he was given when he came here aren't all that uncommon in his world, but he wasn't lucky enough to have possession of anything like it for any lengthy amount of time. Something about living on the streets and not wanting to steal to make his living, but you know how it is. Or do you?]

[Regardless, the feed flickers on to show Tuck's head and shoulders covering most of the background. There is a wall close behind him that he clearly is leaning against. With the lack of so much sound, he might be indoors, but from this angle it's impossible to tell.]

[Whatever he's doing with the pad, all that's seen for the first few times the view flickers on is the teen poking at a few things on the pad itself, swiping here, mashing a button or two there. Then, at last, the feed comes on and stays on. Tuck is no longer so close to the device - he has moved it a few inches back and behind him can be seen part of a room that looks... like someone much larger should have been occupying it. Come on. That table is HUGE!]

Hey, guys... gals. Uh, people. A couple of you saw me about a week ago, if that's right. You spoke with me, tried to point me in the right direction, and I realized I didn't even give you my name.

[He reaches up to rub at the back of his neck, perhaps embarrassed.] I'm not usually like that. Been going through a bad time. I thought about it, though, and I realized I'm not the only one who got dropped in this place either. Maybe it's more like home to some of you, but maybe you're stuck here, too. I got that idea in my head, but I hadn't been able to convince myself to do this until just now.

[He's almost grinning as he gets to the next part.] Anyway, I just wanted to say thank you for that, for trying to help me out in a bad spot. Everyone else, I'm Tuck. Yes, this is what I look like for real. No, I'm not dead or a mummy or anything else like that, so you don't have to worry about me turning you to stone... or however that legend goes. I want to say I'm glad to be here, but I'll be honest and say I hope I'll be glad to be here. We'll see how it goes.

[He gives a little salute, and the feed ends.]

[It's amazing the communicator still works, with how much he's freakin' hitting it. It spins dizzily down, aside, up, then back down, until you've got Frenzy's face all up in yours. He looks agitated, annoyed, and a little sour - there's a dent in the top left side of his helm, as well as a crack along the top left corner of his red visor.]

Those myztical stupid trashbins in rags told me I'm in some fraggin' alternate u-ni-verse, on an alternate Cybatron. I fell from some fraggin' tear in time er whatever an' I've been given dis ugly thing. [He points to the Megatronic glyph on his arm, though you can't see it with how he's angled the communicator.] An' I told 'em, stop tryin' t'miss wit' my processors; told 'em ain't NO ONE make a mark on Frenzy, an' then I...!

[Frenzy trails off. Frowns.] Well, I was gonna shoot 'em, but my fraggin' guns are lost somewhere. Dat's what they said. Prolly took 'em. But I did fight one-a dem. Knocked it outta da fraggin' ball mark, know what I'm sayin'? Sent the sparklin' cryin' for his mama! [Sure, he's laughing and boasting, but there's still something off, as if he's lying. But shh, you don't notice that. He doesn't even bother to mention his superficial head/visor wounds.]

Anyway, where th' frag is Soundwave? Rumble? Laserbeak? Scrap, the entire fraggin' family!? I know I can't be th' only one offus here! [grumble] Just my fraggin' luck if I'm surrounded entirely by dumb Autobutts...

[The video clicks on as Rung settles on the edge of his bed, looking much better than he had previously--at least more put together and collected. Without the constant ache in his head, he's been able to settle a bit more though the whole..feel of this place still isn't all that comforting. Not yet at least. Doesn't help that he's been both upsetting and helping others it seems.]

I figured it might be wise for me to officially offer my services, so to speak, to everyone currently taking residence here since I seem to already be working myself back into the practice. As some of you know, I am a psychiatrist and, as such, am more than willing to sit down with anyone that may need it and just listen and offer advice.

[He pauses, fingers tapping against the edge of the bed as Rung glances down momentarily, considering something before he glances up once more with a faint smile.]

I suppose the first thing to establish would be a potential space I could use for such a practice, if anyone has any suggestions for that sort of thing.

After much debate, I have decided to allow some of you a continued -- yet still brief -- existence in order to make peace with your own lives.

I shall be eliminating you in the order of most sinful to least.

The human children will be spared for last as the their sins are light due to their age.

As for the rest of you, I shall further be deciding your appropriate fates.