re_alignment | [Video] [Transmission originating from Junk Pile]

[Despite having found haven in the Solian temple, Wheeljack wasn't one to stick around in one place. It made him positively antsy, and to be honest, there wasn't much to do there. The longer he stayed, the longer Ratchet would mother-hen him into thinking something was wrong with his processor, or that a dent on his chassis meant irreparable damage. As touching as that was, he decided to stretch his wheels. It's not like they could do anything or go anywhere, after all, so he headed towards the only place he knew of: the junk pile.

Not that he minded that. It was a good place to search for materials. Something to make a good grenade with. Because really, with two Starscreams and counting he had to make sure he had the perfect present for them if the time called for it. And he couldn't rely on the one latched to his hip permanently. It was bound to be used sooner or later.

Figuring he could use a bit of help in this area, he decided to switch on the communicator.]

So...anyone want to go on a treasure hunt?

[He could be seen digging through a pile, tossing out this and that.]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[Drift laughs. Because that was funny.]

I think that was kind of the point. A lesson, that you shouldn't go around attacking everything.

...it's why I also have these. [Drift pulls out his two short swords. Because 'attacking everything' is what Drift does.]

Pledge to the Circle of Light. They were peaceful. They fled our war, saved what they could of our culture. They made me see...where I had gone wrong.

[Yeah, attacking everything seems to be more of Wheeljack's style too. And...he gets the feeling this will be a beautiful friendship.]

Good backup plan. Those are some pretty nice blades, if I can say so.

[He was about to say something, but the pledge catches him.]

Come again?

[Oh, a way to any mech's spark is to praise his weaponry, Wheeljack.]

They've seen me through a lot. [He gives a proud grin.]

What? The Circle? [A deep breath. Here's a long story.] We, the Autobots and Decepticons, we were destroying our planet, utterly. A group left, unwilling to choose sides, and determined to save something of our culture.

I found them. And these.

[Wheeljack listens to the story, picking out the vast similarities between his universe, and the one Drift was obviously from.]

So Cybertron's still kickin' where you're from...

Despite our best efforts. We'd thought it was dead--twice.

But the planet is stronger than any of us.

[He frowns at the implication behind the question.]

Yours isn't.

[Kung Fu Grip on the Obvious.]

It's got some stamina, I'll give it that...

'nfortunately not. Story says too much battle ran the planet dry. Nothin' left to save...

Better than we deserve.

Maybe yours will come back, too.

[Well, this is getting depressing. It's time to Change the Subject.]

So, what do you carry?

[Good call. Wheeljack doesn't really like depression moment either. And you picked the perfect topic.]

Aside from the two blades on my back, I got explosives and two blasters. A little slice of everythin'.

[Brofist?]

Blasters? [You don't say.] I used to be pretty good with a gun.

You have to be prepared for anything when you're a Wrecker.

No kiddin'. It's not my weapon of choice, but it does in a pinch.

...Heh, you know...I'm half tempted to ask for a spar.

...why not?

Better than letting the skills rust.

[He ponders.] We could at least set up a shooting range.

[Good clean fun, right? They certainly have the space.]

[Yeah, wouldn't want those to rust. Like your body ~~that was terrible~~.]

Now you're talkin'. 's not like we don't have the room here. And you're the first other Wrecker I've met in this place.

[They can bond over terrible senses of humor!]

We'd need a good location. And a secure armory. [He's pondering. Weapony things. It's a happy thing to ponder.]

There might be more.

[It would be nice to see some of them, actually.]

I'm sure we can work somethin' out. Should probably wait till that rust of yours clears up.

Ya seem to be on the ride home with that one.

[His face drops.]

Mosta the Wreckers are gone in my world. Seaspray, Roadbuster, Pyro, Impactor...

All dust.

Or it would make a nice distraction.

[Sitting around feeling your joints liquefy is kind of gross. Just saying.]

[He nods.] They're...scattered where I'm from. Impactor's around. Springer, Roadbuster, Kup.

But that's our job, then. To remember them. And to keep up the Wrecker name.

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