[The feed that opens is staticky, coming as it is from the outer edges of the network's range, and bears a face that should be familiar to many. Upon closer inspection though, one might notice this Wing is a little rougher around the edges compared to recent newer arrivals. His glyph too, is a brilliant Vectorian gold edged with a strong violet glow. A touch of concern marks Wing's face as he looks right and left before speaking into the feed. The jet is clearly wary of his surroundings.]

Haveners! It's been quite a long time. I wish happier news brought me to this, but alas, the recent disruption of the Lamdba affects us all.

[Behind Wing, over his shoulder, there's a stealthy, disturbingly flesh colored shape slithering down the slope on all fours.]

We hope--

[There's a flash of steel and white and red behind the jet: Drift doing what he does best, which is, apparently, slicing things into sushi, the two--the whatever-it-is and Drift--disappearing offscreen in a grunting flail.]

[The sound of combat rings out off screen, grabbing Wing's attention. The feed is jostled as he almost ends it--clearly Wing is tempted to join the fray--but he seems to change his mind at the last moment.]

Please. Please be wary if you leave the Haven. The wastelands is strewn with foreign debris and creatures stranger than ever roam the land!

[Yeah, and on that note... Drift appears--victorious, of course--holding what appears to be a severed head--actually two, one a smaller, almost vestigial one like a goiter from the neck of the main one--into the camera's range. ]

Anyone else running into these , for example?

[Stay classy, Drift.]

((OOC: Action and network both fine! Responses will be from either--if you have a preference, let us know! ))

[The feed fizzles on, something big in the way for a moment. It soon becomes apparent that it’s a giant metal foot. The Link is turned slightly on its side, and angled so it’s looking up at Drift and Wing. It was apparently Drift’s foot in the way.]

[The two are facing each other, moving in slow, deliberate movements. It’s almost like a dance, but not, and way too slow to really be...anything. What are these hippies up to?! Whatever it is, it’s clear that Wing is the one slowly guiding Drift through these odd, slow moves.]

[And Drift has clearly had enough of this. He stops, not hiding his frustration very well at all.]
( Watch the hippies dance. )

[Hello Haven.  Have a familiar face for at least some of you.  Wing has left the temple.  It's clear he's got a lot on his mind; this city, what the Acolytes told him, that he's even alive, is a lot to take in.  He decides to start with what he knows he'll need.]

Hello.  If anyone could tell me of a decent place to stay, I'd really appreciate it.

[They hadn't been back in Haven long before the dreams came. Whether they were warnings or threats was hard to tell, but the foreboding nature could not be missed. The third time Drift woke from them it was certain, a thing not to be ignored, and after finding Vector Prime those fears were confirmed.]

[It was like the last piece of the puzzle falling into place, the strike of a match. Wing and Drift had been gone out in the wastelands for months, but they'd only spent the first portion of that time celebrating their union. The rest was putting a plan into action: a hidden retreat, a sanctuary, not as plush as the Haven but very likely safer. They'd made certain of that.]

[They just didn't think the time would come so soon that they'd have to use it.]

[But it's not just for them. Any peaceable individual deserves safety and sanctity. So before they go on their way, leaving Haven behind, a message, a cryptic riddle, left for those who might dare to unravel the mystery and seek out a similar way of life. There's no real time for goodbyes, but this, they can do.]

A shadow falls
with weight and consequence
ware the needled stretch of its darkness
changing all it touches
a haven's beacon dims.

A twinned flame bound by steel and spark burns
as once deep under sand,
kindles brighter, in hope to warm
the sparks of the weary seeking solace.

Inside the crystal spark upon which light shines
near healing's refuge
a patient and earnest seeker can find his way.

[If a cunning individual deciphers the clues and goes to the small crystal geode cave near Solus' Temple (the same one where Drift and Wing were united as conjunx endurae) and is patient enough to wait for what is quite likely a long time, at a certain time of day when the light strikes a certain crystal a message--laser etched into the crystal--will be reflected onto the floor. Included with it is a rough map to the general area of the next clue.]


( Private to Barricade and Ambulon )
( Private to Blurr, Kagerou, and anyone else considered Wing's or Drift's close friend )

((ooc: This is a prelude to the Pillar event and is the narrative for Wing and Drift's endgame. They've left Haven for good, created their own neutral, safe sanctuary where there is food and shelter, and will continue to build on it. They won't reply to this post but feel free to post reactions, threadjack and discuss. Going forward, any character wishing to drop the game may leave Haven by choice and go in search of this place as an alternative to the Badlands (mod approved).))

[On a perfect day this post would be locked to Law Committee and Police Force members. However Wing is too busy being distracted with thoughts of his future Perfect Day with Drift to properly encode the message. WHOOPS. But look! He is working today, as much as part of his processor wants to be elsewhere.]

I'd like to request a status update on the investigation into the incident with Tarn and Chromedome please.

And Starscream, you wanted to speak with me?

[Wing is aware the investigation shouldn't be discussed over the Link, but he's not going to disrupt the work being done by just dropping in unannounced. Annnnnnd then there's this other matter, which he's just going to sneak in with all the other official business.]

Also, I need a favor of the Police Force. Might I borrow a pair of stasis cuffs?

[Because reasons.]

[Wing has been busy of late. There's been a lot going on but he realized recently that soon its going to be a year since he and the others of the First Wave had arrived. He's had this idea percolating in his processor for months now, but it seems like maybe this is the perfect time. An anniversary of sorts to celebrate new beginnings.]

So I was thinking. Once we get the memorial done, I'd like to do something really uplifting, something to bring us all together. Joy can exist in this place but sometimes we have to make it ourselves.

We've had parties before--I threw one myself--but I want to do something different. So I'm proposing a sporting festival, like a carnival of different games we can all compete in for fun. [Preferably something safer than Frenzy's recent example of boredom.]

Things like racing and marksmanship and feats of strength, whatever we think is fun and have the resources for. I also want to hold an air show, I hope there's some other fliers out there willing to choreograph and put on exhibitions?

I can't do it all myself though. Drift's agreed to handle one of the longer races, I can take care of the air show and scheduling in general, but if we want more games and activities I need help.

Is anyone interested?

[Wing is probably biting off more than he can chew again but this. This is important. He wants to give people something fun to do if they're so inclined, and a healthy way to compete and get out aggression that isn't fighting. Plus he has a special message of his own he wants to convey, one that is far past due in his mind.]


((ooc: An OOC plotting post will go up to accompany this soon is up for this. I've sorted out the general setup but I want it to be open for people to OOC and IC organize their own games/activities/events within the Haven Games.))

[The camera shows Wing's quarters, a breeze lightly rustling a curtain behind the two mechs. Drift's standing, almost pacing, as though he's been talked into this and is still not very comfortable.]

[He hesitates, trying to gather the right words. It's so much easier when he's writing it for someone else.]

A lot--more mechs than we even know--died here, or went missing. Everyone deserves to be remembered, whether we have their bodies or not. They were all like us, and we, any of us, could disappear or....worse, ourselves.

[Ghosts, zombies, the unknown fate of the badlands: so many options, all of them terrible. Wing doesn’t like any of those notions, but this idea is heartening. He rises from his seat near the window.]

If there’s one thing recent events have taught us, it’s that memories have a power of their own. We need a way, not just to mourn, but to remember those no longer with us, both past and future. To honor them. And maybe keep hope alive for the lost.

We were thinking of a place, not like a cemetery, but some place that recalls them as they were. This is for all of us, not just Cybertronians, so we were kind of wondering. How do you celebrate the memories of those you've lost in your worlds?

[ The video flickers on to a backdrop familiar to most of Haven, the outer doors of the bar at Haven’s Hub. Blurr appears to be putting the finishing touches on a help wanted sign that’s tacked to the wall beside the door. Similar signs can now be found outside the other Hub doors as well. Wing smiles into the camera in the foreground.]

Hello Haven. As many of you know, we’ve lost several people over the last few weeks. That’s left a number of gaps in the staff here at the Hub. So we need your help.

We could use at least one part time bartender to supplement the current staff. It’s just Dead End, Blurr and myself...and Blurr and I are both working two jobs currently. Training is offered, but you don’t have to serve drinks if you don’t want to. Another DJ and a bouncer or two might not be a bad idea either.

[ Here comes Blurr, done with the sign. He salutes briefly and smiles, glad that they finally decided to get more help. Perhaps Dead End will be happier now. He doubts it.]

Greetings everyone! Now that we are not in our respective worlds anymore some of you might find yourself with more free time on your hands than you ever used to have. It might get a bit tedious after a few months so if you feel like being more active again please come take a look, we will welcome all the help we can get. Between ^{the bar the atrium and the galley} there's quite the number of available job options that might fit your tastes.

[ … ]

[They exchange looks and then Wing looks a little bit sheepish for a moment...]

There’s one last thing. The bar also still needs a name. Soooo we want to encourage you to submit suggestions again, like last time. Any and all are welcome, as long as they are polite enough for general audiences.

[He nods at Blurr, making sure they’ve covered everything.]

And HERE you can see the jobs available. Thank you very much for your attention.

[And with that, the feed ends.]

((OOC: Wing is red, Blurr is blue. Both of us may be replying, if you want to address one of us specifically be sure to note that in your reply! If you want to express interest in a job you can say so here but please respond on the help wanted post so we have it on record!))

[ Here's a face that's been gone from the network for over a month. Wing looks a touch weary, his pinions lax, even though physically he seems in good health]

Hello Haven. I'm back now. I apologize for my absence, it was not intentional.

Sorry to ask this but, would anyone care to update me on recent events? Particularly from the Law Committee? I would appreciate it greatly.

[ He knows about Vandal, and a few of the others that have gone missing, which likely accounts for his glum mood.]

Also, committee members, I think we should put serious consideration into mapping not just the Haven but the surrounds. And clearly mark hazardous areas.

To everyone else... Please, if you're considering going exploring alone, regardless of skill level, do reconsider. Everyday we discover new hazards that persist on this world.

[ Wing might have taken down six reanimated mech frames on his own, maybe. But with the energy drain? There was no chance. ]

And well, I have a bunch of books, mostly human ones, that I don't need anymore. [ More specifically he needs to make room in his...room for someone else's stuff. ] Would anyone like them? I don't want them thrown away.

( Private to Barricade )

( Private to Perceptor and Captain Marvelous )

[ The video feed clicks on to a good view of Alpha Trion's library. Two white swordmechs surrounded by books may be an unlikely scene, but here Drift and Wing are. If the dour looks are any indication, they came here seeking something and did not find it. ]

[ Wing's greeting is not as cordial as usual; he's a bit too troubled by recent developments. ]

Haven. We've been out exploring. And found some...unexpected things. Evidence that there were others here before us, living outside of the Haven. [ Wing doesn't say for how long they'd been living, he'll leave those grisly details out for now. ] They chose to leave. Something drove them out, made them think the wastelands would be better than living here.

[ The jet's mouthplates close around the rest of the troubling details but the firm line they make serves as a clue. ]

They were like us. A mixed group: Cybertronians. Organics. And what happened to them.

I don't think it's Unicron.

[ Drift's getting tired of bugbear Unicron. ]

The names Thermal or Overclock mean anything? Bix? Emeri? Gouge?

[ Someone might know. It seems...horrible to die like this and have no one know, no one remember. ]

[ Wing's helm shifts as they exchange a look. ] And to the First Forged: Did you know these individuals? What happened, why did they leave?

[ Because judging by the contents of the datapad they found...it wasn't a pleasant little vacation. ]

Regardless. We need to have some memorial for them. Even if we didn't know them. Because next time...it could be us.

[ Signs and portents seem to be the theme of this broadcast. As if to prove the point, something catches Wing's attention in his peripheral while Drift is talking. His optics track obvious movement...almost like a person walking away down the rows of bookshelves, except the space appears quite empty. ]

[ The confused jet's optics widen to gold saucers. His audials and pinions flare out more than most would even guess possible and he makes a grab for Drift's wrist. There's a startled yelp and a gasp and then the feed gets jostled, Drift's open-mouthed expression the last thing the communicator catches before the feed cuts. ]

[Someone's been digging through the bar's storeroom looking for decorations for the dance when he comes across a little reminder. Well, not so little. He'd found it in the Junk Pile two months ago and had no idea what to do with it all. And once unpacked, it was more than he could haul back to his room much less have space for. So it'd been sitting, covered by on old tarp, forgotten in the bar's storeroom until now.]

[Wing waves into the video feed, looking, frankly, a little bit perplexed and perturbed.]

A lot of us received anonymous gifts quite a little while back. Mine was...quite large. And unfortunately, try as I might, I can't discern...what it even is.

[Wing holds up one of pieces of equipment which looks decidedly like an energy weapon to him, something he seems none too pleased about. He steps back to gesture behind him, to where a bunch of similar equipment is strewn about one corner of the room.]

Anyone want to help me sort out what all this stuff is? I'm at a loss.

[And one might notice, if one paid particular attention or just had a habit of staring at Wing's frame in general, that something has definitely changed since his last broadcast in December. His lines seem sleeker and the proportions in his chassis do seem different.]

On an entirely different note, I'm also happy to announce--albeit a little belated--that those to which I offered flights or tours of Haven, I can now accommodate you.

[Judging by the way this brings a smile back to his face, he seems inordinately pleased by this. Someone finished his cockpit modification and can carry passengers!]

((ooc: This occurs the night before the bugs start popping up in Haven. Action is welcome, Drift may wake up after this broadcast))

[The video comes on and at first it's difficult to tell exactly what's happening, except that it's obvious this broadcast wasn't quite intentional. Even in the dim light, the view looks like the one of the rooms at Vector's tower. The communicator, it seems, has been knocked to the floor, giving a slightly askew view of the room's only door.]

[Somewhere off-screen there's some shuffling, footsteps and a nervous voice, bordering on the edge of fear.]

Drift... What is going on? Talk to me... Drift please!

[A form comes into view: it certainly looks like Drift, even in the dark, but does not move like him. The staccato rhythm of his steps is odd, as is the slight downwards cant to the helm and the way the optics--dilated large behind the cyan glass--seem to gaze unseeing. He arrives at the door, simply standing for a moment. When it does not open immediately, a hand raises to the access panel. There's a flash of blurred white and red that fills the screen then, something passing in front of the camera to interpose. Wing, grabbing the wrist, squeezing himself between Drift and the door.]

Where are you going? Talk to me! Drift, Wake up!

[The harsh demand is punctuated by a violent shake. But it's fruitless and Wing looks away with a hissing curse. It's then that he notices the communicator.]

Does anyone know what's going on? [He's trying to stay calm, but there's a part of him that's failing.] Is there maybe a medic out there with a sedative...or something? Maybe some rope? I don't want to hurt him.

Just a bulletin to say that we're still searching for Vandal, whom went missing several weeks ago. [He details the exact date of her disappearance and gives a description of her without her RIG.]

If anyone has any information that might be involved in this case, however small, please come forward. You may bring the information to me or any member of the police force.

Thank you.

( Locked to the Police Force, Law Committee, Wreckers and anyone involved in Vandal's search. )
( Locked to any Firstforged; a message for Vector Prime. )

[It seems quite like this message was meant for specific people, but given the current state of the sender it's unsurprising that the delivery is more than a bit botched.]

[The video feed flickers on to a figure holding tight to the bartop's edge, every line of the body taut and quaking in obvious distress. It's Wing, keening behind clenched dentae as he's afflicted by some unseen form of suffering.]

J-Jetfire. We--we were ^right. I can _{feel it.} He's... so-omething's wrong!

Ratchet, Ambulon, F-Firs--[A hissing vent as he grits his dentae.] He's ^hurt. please...someone help him. I-I can't--

[The video feed shakes as if the hands holding it tremble violently. Ragged venting triggered by phantom heat and fire is punctured by another cry of pain and distress, only half of it for himself. Wing's optics shutter tightly against the pain, real enough despite being not his own, forcing it back, trying to keep control.]

Drift...wh-where are you!? What's ha^aaa--!

[That's all he gets out before it overtakes him. He can no longer block out the sensations assaulting him over the remnant of his bond to Drift's Great Sword, as the other mech is violently consumed by flames somewhere far out of Haven. Another cry, a scream of horrible measure, crackling with static as he topples. There's a convulsion that scatters the video feed for a moment, the sound of jet's frame crashing to the ground audible. When the camera becomes still again it's a view of the star-strewn skylight in the bar's ceiling accompanied only by silence.]


((OOC: Wing won't be able to respond at first, so at the beginning action spam will be required--feel free to find him and help wake him up. If you want to tag a little "later on" when he's awake then he'll respond via comm.))