[He had he hands on his head, as if he can block out the sound, and his teeth are gritted. A look of frustration is written all over his face.]

Someone make it stop!

Make it... make it go away!

I hate this feeling!

I want McCrane here...

I want...

I want to be home.

[He has been trying to stay strong for the others but right now his head just feels like a mess and he wants the annoyance in it to stop.]

[The video feed pops on, to a slightly breathless sounding voice and a worried pair of blue optics.]

...must have gotten knocked out.

Perceptor?  Verity?    Springer?  A-anyone? 

[He tries to make his voice sound a little calmer, a little less unnerved. ]

I'm okay. Something must've, uh, hit me on the head or something.

[Not, you know, the passing out thing. Of course not]

Tell me it's over.

Tell me...we won.

...

Tell me I'm not alone.

[ If there's one thing Tailgate has discovered he's not a fan of, it's waking up uncertain how he got there, after some uncertain length of unconsciousness. That's a lot of uns. Too many.

Which is why the Tailgate currently being broadcast to you live from somewhere in the junk pile is looking a liiiittle bit panicked. Just a wee bit. ]

What year is it?!

[ Or, y'know, a lot. ]

W-where am I?! Where's the ship?!

[ Okay, focus. Slow, even vents. Can't pass out now. ]

Ooooh slag not again.

Swerve? Rewind? Cyclonus? C'mon guys, someone talk to me. I'd even settle for Ultra Magnus right now...

[ He ducks his head down into his hands and focuses on his venting again, and it's only after he calms himself a little that he seems to take proper stock of his surroundings. ]

How did I even get down here..?

Er, so. This looks kinda like Cybertron. Woo, I made it back. Points for me, I guess.

But things are looking kind of. Weird. And I woke up in this pile of scrap.

And there's this... what do you call this? Frequency? Um. Who am I contacting?

Weak Anthropic Principle, can you hear me? Anyone?

Uh, I'll even take Grimlock?

[An ordinary person might have panicked upon waking up in such a wildly unfamiliar setting, after all this can hardly mean anything good. But Cylas has long since stopped being "ordinary" and therefore takes it calmly. He admits though, that feeling he had when he arrived was... unsettling to say the least.

A communications device, shall he use it? Despite the unsettling feeling, he decides to take a leap of faith. Who knows where it might lead him. Besides, he recognizes that being here is far better than where he was going.]

This is a largely unconventional means of abduction, so I will give points for creativity. I suppose the next question is about where I am, and I have the feeling that I'm not in Kansas anymore. You should also consider cleaning this place up, it would be terrible if guests were to get a bad first impression.

[Wait... this face looks familiar doesn't it, yet the voice doesn't match.]

Any and all information is welcome.

[For a brief moment, Ambulon just sort of... stands there. Not saying a word. Stroking his chin, looking off to the side. Hesitating. He's also got numerous patches and grooves of chipped away paint, exposing purple and black streaks. tl;dr He doesn't look so good right now.]

[Finally, he looks up and cycles air]

Ultra Magnus. Blurr.

You two are leading First Aid's murder investigation, correct?

[another hesitant pause]

I think I know a possible suspect. One I think might have somehow been directly, maybe indirectly, involved. I'm not saying they are responsible, but given certain... circumstances, I think you should perhaps... Well, investigate the matter.

[You know, there were a lot of things June thought she could handle, especially after 'giant robots'. Sadly, suddenly appearing on an obvious alien planet--and in their garbage pile no less--was not something she saw coming. So please forgive her if she's a little panicked at the moment.]

I could really use some help right about now.

[She's not even sure if she got this whatever it is to work properly. As such, she's not even looking directly into the feed, but rather surveying the area for any possible way back home.]

[ SUDDENLY SCREEN FULL OF RED OPTICS. ]

Hello? Is this thing on? Krok? Kroooooooooooooook? I promise I'll never roam again! You can't do this!

Spinister? Crankcase? Fuuuuuuuuuuuuulcrum?

Look is anyone out there? Okay seriously I'm all for a good joke. You know me, good old Misfire, always joking and stuff but this is bordering on highly weird. And you know how I feel about weird things.

I find them.

Well. Weird.

Anyways can anyone tell me where I am? And maybe if you've seen my comrades? Krok is kinda unimpressive and has this sense of quiet desperation, you'd know Spinister by looking at him he actually makes the surrounding area more stupid by existing in it, it's actually kind of impressive. Crankcase has this unmistakable head wound and is generally unpleasant in every way and Fulcrum is the biggest loser you will ever have the pleasure to lay your optics on, believe me you can't miss him.

And more over:

What loser left all this fantastic stuff around?

[ The view abruptly swings to Misfire, gesturing to the... junk heap. ]

SERIOUSLY! Does anyone have a claim on this? Because if not, I am hereby claiming dibs. Dibs on everything. Look at this! [ He picks up what appears to be half of a piano ]

SO USEFUL. For things. This is just careless, really. I mean what a waste. Someone needs to sort through all of this because it is practically a mine of great. Things. Whatsits. Now there is a great word. Not one you hear often, right? Whatsits.

Anyways all I'm really trying to say here is uh.

Little help, please?

[The video starts with a rather grisly scene, there is a robot on the junk pile, oil leaking from a large gash in his shoulder, as he looks up the camera, oil also seeping from the corner of his mouth.]

Can someone tell me what this is? Is this what happens when we die?

[His speech is clear though a little slow as if he is searching for all the things to say, he also doesn’t move at all, though the wound is sparking dangerously.]

I don’t think I was good enough to go anywhere nice when I died. Is this some kind of strange kind of dream? I don’t suppose the kid, the Boss, is here, is he?

[He looks quite pitiful in his own way, though he is holding himself a proudly as he can, slowly dying on the junk pile.]

Ugh, my head...

[It's hard to make anything out at first, save for the brilliant glare of blue bleeding like an open wound in the vast expanse of a dark sky.]

Where? [The Autobot finally sits himself up, a hand braced against his head as he looks around. His expression falls.]

...oh you've got to be kidding me. I know we were en route to the Planet of Junk, but come on- how many times are we going to crash land? And we just got that ship!

[He pauses, optics narrowing as he looks around once more. There's...something that... No. Probably his imagination. He shakes his head.]

I know I didn't let any of those big bozos drive so how... Guess I should start with "where." -huh?

[He looks directly at the screen, finally.]

Kup? Wheelie? Hey, I'll even settle for Grimlock! Where are you guys?

[A pile of junk was the last place he'd expected to end up, to be perfectly honest.  In fact, it was the farthest thing from Autobot Outpost Omega 1 that you could get...well, at least now that Ratchet swept it up.  The large Autobot rose from his position, brushing off the debris that seemed to collect from his initial entrance. He doesn't seem to really react to any of it, as if he was basically just acknowledging 'yep, I just landed in a trash heap. Oh well'.  Out of all of the useless junk, there is one thing that catches his eye. The Link.  He picks it up, eyebrow perked.  Interesting...it seemed to be a communications device.  He'd have to take a look at this.

But that didn't mean he wouldn't waste time with IMPORTANT things.  His eyes immediately began to scan his surroundings, pupils dilating and contracting as he shifts immediately towards the stars. He always felt that the cosmos offered a better map than the landscape, although he wasn't exactly prepared for the results. And, like a camera lens, those eyes widen in shock.  It was...Cybertron. There was no way he could be mistaken.

He wouldn’t hesitate to use the Link either, especially if it seemed to have communication properties. After all, he had to find his soldiers. At moments like this, it was best to stick together.]

Autobots, report in. This is Optimus Prime, and I fear we seem to have traveled somehow to our homeworld. It’s appearance is not as I remember, as if it has yet to be built. If you are nearby I will send my coordinates.

If not, report me yours so I may locate you.

[His gaze went from the stars to the layout of the land. A pile of junk...he certainly didn’t remember that, but some of the landscape was definitely ringing some bells in his processor. Or at least...they were similar enough. There were a few petite differences, but the gorges, canyons, mountains...they aligned with his own vision.]

Cybertron...