maskormenacelogs | [Open] Moving time!

A. Pokémon getting in the way (open)
[The Pokémon helping is a blessing, although the ones getting underfoot and in people's ways were not. Null and Crobat were doing a good job moving things and he'd given permission for both of them to be directed as needed by everyone there and told them to listen.

The one who surprisingly was getting in the way, is Umbreon, wanting attention at the wrong time. Sneasel was off behaving, much to his surprise, just sitting in a corner somewhere asleep.]

Umbreon get out of the way, they're going to trip or drop that on you!

B. Break time (open)
[After all that hard work and moving everything, food is ideal and Gladion is famished, as are the Pokémon. Umbreon's still begging for attention, but this time is curled up next to his trainer and giving the most adorable and innocent of faces as if he hadn't almost tripped someone earlier.]

Hey so... Thanks for the help, we managed to get this done quicker.

C. Rooms? Rooms. (Closed to Mizuki and Lillie)
[After everyone left, the real decisions needed making: rooms. Gladion's already set on having the room closest to the door for both protective reasons and less than morally good ones due to still doing Skull work.]

For the rooms, I want the one closest to the front door. The Pokémon should have the master room, with how many of them there are.

[She has a pretty damn good idea of why he wants the front room, but it doesn't stop the brief worried look his way. He's not at her level, yet - he needs the room and she is the Alolan Champion.

Their world and discordant timelines or not, it'd make sense for her to not take that room.]

I agree. [Said with a nod and smile that's more or less sunshine (though from the Look on Pika's face, the mimikyu's not afraid of showing Mizuki's worry.] I think Lillie should be in the middle room and me in the back? I...Um. I am the Champion and you know they'd do this back home...

[It is a good thing that Jingyi has pretty decent balance, because he very much trips over Umbreon anyway. He is running a little late to the moving party, but he has brought snacks (!very important!). Stumbling over the Pokemon, he bounces off the wall with his shoulder and blinks at Gladion in surprise.]

Ah, I am here to help?

[He recovers surprisingly gracefully once he is not in motion, righting himself and offering a smile. He is dressed to help, too, in jeans and a T-shirt as he is.]

Sorry, Umbreon.

[His apology comes once he has made sure that his snacks (cookies!) are not in jeopardy.]

[And no sooner does Gladion utter his warning does someone misstep over the needy Pokemon and the box of heavy dishware and cutlery goes toppling forward, out of the hands of whoever was carrying it. That would have spelled disaster for the poor Pokemon and the dishes alike - no one wants to eat dinner on paper plate with plastic cutlery for even a week - but there's some quick movement as someone dashes forward and grabs the edge of the box and rapidly taps each of the dishes, cups, mugs, and pieces of silverware they could. A few spoons and forks clatter to the ground, but none of the ceramics ever hit the pavement.

No...in fact, they're floating, carelessly, like bubbles in the wind, and the box itself is rendered totally weightless in the arms of whoever was carrying it before the so-called savior turns on her heel and exhales.]

Haah...that was close! [It's a young teen, maybe just a few years older than Gladion at fifteen years old, the pads of her fingers glowing a gentle, pink light for a moment before it fades.] Is your doggy okay?

[Because clearly it's a dog, right?]

[ Magnus was happy enough just to be asked for his assistance and, according to this assistance, has seen it as a way to show off just how many boxes and pieces of furniture he can move. This isn't actually a problem; he's good at his job, and his job is lifting things.

That said, he wasn't anticipating the problem that Umbreon was going to pose. He's got his arms full, boxes held on each of his shoulders as he jumps and wiggles as Umbreon gets underfoot. ]

Hey -- stop -- that tickles! Come on little guy, I don't wanna drop this on you! I'll pet you when I'm done!

Moving
A-

"I think I overpacked some of these..."

Just because she's moved before doesn't mean she's actually great at packing boxes. Yet it doesn't stop her from doing her best in taking them in, be the light or heavy.

B-

There are times she has a Disapproving (shiny) Alolan raichu helping her. Hoshii's either providing a psychic lift or carrying his own while frowning at his trainer, who has a nervous grin on her face. "I'd've been ok, really!"

Sometimes, there's even a Disapproving mimikyu helping via literally dragging a box along with a shadowy claw, but mostly Pika just watches with a Judging look on her face.

C-

When asked where a box goes, Mizuki blinks. "Um, I think that's kitchen?"

Probably. Either way, there is a chance someone will glimpse Mushu either out carefully exploring, or catch him scuttle away in a flash of red to hide under the couch.

Break time
A-

By the time the food arrives, Mizuki will well and truly ready to stop for a while and chow down on whatever she can, along with feed her pokemon. But, she is a good host and she's not gonna eat until she knows their helpers are welcome to the food, too. "Help yourself! We really couldn't have done this without help. The least we can do is feed you in thanks."

B-

That said, for all she's eating, she does make sure all her pokemon get to eat, as well, and she does eye the backyard with a completive look.

"Hey, do you think we could set up a berry patch here?"

Ironfist sets the box down on the table with a bit of a huff; he's learning a lot about human physiology today, mostly because this is the first time he's ever done this much manual labour as one (Mizuki may have had to assure him that the fact that he's leaking so much "fuel" through his chassis is not, in fact, an indicator that he's going to die; he's just unaccustomed to sweat). He might be a bit more comfortable if he took off his blue baseball cap and surgical mask, though he's made no move to do so.

He looks at Mizuki, then peers into the box. "You sure? The kitchen is looking pretty full up already." Utensils, pots and plates and things he gets, sure but this seems like an awful amount of cloth for the kitchen. "Maybe you better take a look just to double-check." Genius weapons designer, completely clueless at dishtowels and napkins.

Mushu scuttles by, right by his feet and Ironfist is considerate enough to step back a bit to give the Pokemon room to maneuver as it skitters under the couch. "Poor guy; not used to so many people yet is he?" That's a Big Mood Ironfist understands Mushu.

She absolutely would have reassured him, and made sure he had enough water to drink.

"Yep! We need both in the kitchen- and you should probably take off your hat? You'll feel cooler without it at least!" Even with the worried look, the mask is far less of an issue, given for all she knows, it could be aesthetic or he has a cold, or both.

Anyway, she's distracted by Mushu. "That and he's Timid, so on top of an already timid species..." There's a small laugh; as much as she adores Mushu, she really didn't get lucky with a shiny Timid wimpod. "I can bring him with me when I next visit though! That way, he knows your scent at least?"

Tentatively, Ironfist reaches up for his hat; logically, he knows he can take it off without issue, and has done, once, in his little-used these days apartment in Heropa, in front of a mirror. It still feels strange though, like removing the upper part of his cranial unit.

...Which was still a thing Cybertronians could do, it was just considered impolite to walk around with your brain module showing, not to mention dangerous in wartime.

But after a moment's hesitation, he pulls the cap off, revealing an unruly mop of dark, curly hair, and a dark purple bruise on his upper forehead. "That...does feel better, yeah." He admits. "Thanks, Mizuki."

With another "oof" he lifts the box back up to move it into the kitchen, being mindful of the various Pokemon. "Interesting." He notes, hearing the capital "T" on that Timid. "So your world has an entire classification for Pokemon behaviour ranges?" Given what he knows of how much Mizuki's world revolves around them, that makes sense though.

Once in the kitchen, he finds a spot for the box on the counter and sets it there. "By the way, I've been meaning to ask, how's the Refresher Bracer working?"

[Ochako had offered to help move earlier - honestly, she had precious little else to do today, and her zero gravity quirk made heavy lifting a breeze - and met a few of the Pokemon already, but not to the extent of Mizuki's entire team on display.

It's odd - she's not quite sure to make of these bizarre looking creatures, the only one she's ever encountered being her Highschool Principal, Nezu - but she can't help but stare from each one to the next, fidgeting nervous because...well. They're super cool.

And she sort of wants to pet them. Like, all of them.

The plump, chocolate-dipped marshmallow rabbit looking one was especially cute, and with each twitch of its ears of tail, Ochako feels her teenage heart clench (it's so cute ;__; omg) tightly. Would it be okay if she asked to pet them? They were all eating now, so it'd be rude to pester them for something that's rather selfish, but...aaaa.

Cute...cool animals...]

Knock Out heaves an exaggerated sigh and crouches to take the overladen box from Mizuki — what's large for her is still quite small in his grasp. "You think," he repeats dryly. "What was your first clue?"

A. MOVING (MECH FORM)

B. BREAK TIME (HOLOFORM)

unfamiliar guy

((OOC: Will match prose or brackets, your choice!))

"Oh, you went holomatter." Ironfist slightly retracts the proffered pizza slice in his currently-human hand. "Fair enough then. More for me!" It's not exactly Energon, but it's still tasty and keeps his engine going when he's human, so to speak.

He's finally removed the baseball cap though he admittedly felt weird about it, and even the surgical mask has been pulled down to accommodate eating. Ironfist takes a bite out of the slice he had just offered Knock Out. "So I take it you approve of the place." He nods towards the rest of the house. It's certainly cozier than he's used to.

"I told you when you arrived," Knock Out says, and the holoform gives an exaggerated shudder. "You couldn't pay me to use the human form we all got subjugated with. Bad enough the thing exists. You have no idea how very nearly I scan you and Riptide for processor damage whenever you change back."

In all reality, there had been instances where being human sized would have helped Knock Out in the last year and a half. But his aversion to the idea far outweighs the possible conveniences. And while his holoform is far from perfect — he has fairly short range on his, and his buffers aren't great, meaning he can't hold it for more than an hour or two — it still provides that necessary compromise for times like this.

At Ironfist's assessment of the house, he nods. "It seems like it will work for them," he answers. "I wouldn't have signed for it otherwise."

"Is that so? Well, I appreciate your restraint." Ironfist replies drily. "You never think the occasional change of perspective might be good? Broadening of your mind, that kind of thing? I've been learning all sorts of things you just can't get from using holomatter. You might find it beneficial in the long run." He'd normally chalk the reticence to make more use of the human form down to the standard mech supremacy that had long been woven into Decepticon ideology, except for Knock Out's fondness for, say the new residents of the home they were standing in.

He takes a moment to swallow another bite of pizza. "You know, I've been meaning to ask how you and Mizuki ended up bumping into each other in the first place." A Decepticon medic and rather exuberant human child with exotic animals seems like a rather strange combination, even for a world like this one.

"I guarantee I can tell you more about all the pulpy little bits you're currently wearing than you can tell me," Knock Out returned just as wryly.

(That knowledge comes from torturing one of them, inside and out. Excessively. For months. Thank you for your contribution to the Decepticon knowledge database, Silas.)

"Hm? It was on a road track race outside of the city. She was there watching, and I was there racing. I won, naturally, and she agreed with me that one of the other drivers was being a sore loser over it. That she was completely and utterly enamored by my skill certainly didn't hurt."

It sounds as appropriately shallow as one might expect from Knock Out, though it doesn't explain the whole house-sponsoring thing, nor does it really fit with the fact that the medic has a little stuffed plush, the forerunner to the one Ironfist received, on the display shelf in his quarters at the Cybertronian house.

After a moment, he allows, "And she likes to race, to be fast. When I heard her describe the feeling it gives her, well... she gets it. A little racer at spark."

Ironfist gives Knock Out a look. "I don't mean it like that." He begins. "...Well, not entirely at least. I mean it's just...a whole different kind of existence, you know?" He gestures vaguely in the air with his half-eaten slice. "Everything changes; how you experience the world, how you interact with it, how it interacts with you. Different priorities, different sensations, different...everything. It forces you to come at things a different way than you're used to. Change, and adapt. Isn't that what we're supposed to be good at?"

Ironfist; expert weapons designer, fanboy, Wrecker, pizza philosopher.

"I'm just saying, you might be doing yourself a disservice by neglecting it." He takes another bite; there's a smear of tomato sauce on the corner of his mouth when he's done.

He listens to Knock Out's explanation of how he and Mizuki met and it's the usual self-aggrandizement that he's come to expect from his colleague. "Sure, I get having fans but...I never heard about Blurr or Dragstrip ever co-signing a habsuite for any of theirs, is all I'm saying."

That said, Knock Out's clarification causes Ironfist to chuckle despite himself. He's written enough fanfiction to pick up on that little tell. "Like you're kindred spirits? She really got to you, huh?" Ironfist has certainly grown rather fond of her in the time they've spent together. "You know Knock Out, I'm really starting to see that there is a lot more to you than you let on."

Edited 2020-08-02 04:28 (UTC)

"Oh yes, I've been just dying to experience a loss of senses in a sack of meat with no self-regulation ability," Knock Out scoffed, and the holoform rolled its eyes — apparently he'd made sure to include that bit of programming. "How ever could I contemplate the mysteries of the universe without such critical parameters?"

Sorry, Ironfist... this is one point he's probably not going to budge on.

But his gaze turns sharp when Ironfist brings up Drag Strip, and his tone is biting. "Please. Drag Strip had his lips welded to his own skidplate. That glitch wouldn't have noticed a fan if they dismantled themselves to grease his gears right in front of him. He was absolutely insufferable on the best days."

The holoform folds his arms petulantly when Ironfist guesses correctly about Mizuki. "Hmph. We just happen to share that one thing in common, that's all."

(Wait until Ironfist finds out that Mizuki gave him a hug after the Fates battle...)

There's lost causes, and then there's lost causes. Even a Wrecker has to know when to give up. Ironfist merely shrugs the dismissal off; that's not been his experience but clearly Knock Out isn't going to budge on this. "Well, suit yourself."

He finishes up the slice of pizza, crust and all, and tries to imagine how bad someone has to be for Knock Out to find them self-absorbed and self-important. "Okay, but my point still stands." He insists at the Decepticon's petulant shrug. "I'm not criticizing you, you know. Mizuki's a good kid, and I'm glad she has someone who cares looking out for her. Like me and Verity."

Ironfist's eyes momentarily go wide. Oh scrap. But it's too late to try and deflect, which he knows won't fool Knock Out for a microsecond, so he just powers on. "She was a good kid. We both looked out for each other." At least for the time they were together.

The holoform heaves a sigh and picks up a napkin from the nearby table and offers it to Ironfist. "Here. You're wearing some of your snack. Left side."

Knock Out's ready to protest that 'someone who cares' is vastly overstating the matter when Ironfist stumbles into a topic that's apparently not one he intended to touch on. It's not the first time it's happened — the name Skyfall in the lab had done the same thing, which Knock Out still intends to snoop into at some point — but honestly it's the Wrecker's reaction that piques his interest.

He doesn't recognize the name. Given that Autobots seemed to adopt human pets — ahem, friends — at every turn, this was hardly something that seemed worthy of downplaying, even if Knock Out was a Decepticon. But it's the past tense that catches him, and he's not sure whether it's deliberately used here or not. Humans did have short lifespans after all. He takes a moment to choose his response.

"An appropriately Autobot partnership, no doubt," he says lightly.

"Oh. Thanks." Ironfist takes the napkin and then proceeds to dab around the opposite side of his mouth from the stain. "That better?"

"...Sort of." He admits; he's been caught out now and frankly, with Ryuko gone now it feels good to talk about her; he's been missing their friendship a lot lately, brief and harried as it was. "She was working with Ultra Magnus during the Surge, when we were under fire across the galaxy and been pushed off Earth. After three years we were getting ready to push back, and the Wre—I mean, our part of that effort was to get into Garrus-9, our supermax prison that had gotten overrun during the initial wave of attacks and we thought was being used as a link in the Decepticon's supply chain."

He shifts a little, trying to work out some tension. "Megatron was dead, or at least we all thought so, I guess that turned out not be true though according to Riptide, but Starscream had a big faction of the 'Cons holed up somewhere in the Sol system and there were other commanders elsewhere in play; the DJD was still going around executing people for failing to live up to Megatron's ideals and all that." He sighs. "The movement hadn't stopped just because we'd taken out its master, and we were still under pretty heavy fire. Anyway, our job was to get in past G-9's security fields and spring the Autobot prisoners, get them back into the fight and maybe throw a wrench into the Decepticon supply lines. Springer put together a team of as many vets as he could get his hands on, and called up a bunch of new recruits to fill out the roster. Magnus ferried us most of the way to G-9, but then we were gonna take his ship and go the rest of the way while he returned to Earth via shuttle with Verity, except, well...Verity wasn't interested in going back. I guess there wasn't much she thought was waiting for her there, and helping stage an Autobot breakout sounded like more fun. So she snuck an exosuit from the armoury and stowed away before Magnus cut us loose. By the time we discovered she was onboard we were crashing through a hole we'd punched in G-9's shields and there wasn't much we could do except take her along."

"Anyway, it turned out our initial assessment had been off the mark; we thought Skyquake was holding G-9 with his Predator unit, but we got some intel before we went in that told us Skyquake was dead and a rogue Phase Sixer had moved in and taken over; he was basically keeping the Decepticons prisoner as well as the Autobots and had turned the whole place into one big arena with himself as the "grand champion" or whatever you want to call it."

He rubs the back of his head. "Things went south pretty much as soon as we hit the ground, and a lot of good bots died in stupid, pointless ways, and even Springer was in a coma by the end of it, but we took out the Phase Sixer and resecured the prison, so...maybe some good came of it in the end. Verity and I kind of ended up sticking together during the mission, sort of mutual support. She reminded me...reminded all of us actually, what the Wreckers were supposed to be about, and we wouldn't have been able to take down Overlord without her." He reaches up for his glasses and breathes on them, cleaning them with the still-unstained napkin Knock Out handed him, mostly to give himself something to do.

"Anyway, probably not an appropriately Autobot partnership, but I hope she made it back to Earth okay. But she made it through G-9 so I gotta imagine after that she can make it through most anything."

"Your other left," Knock Out deadpans. But whatever the medic had been expecting in response to his inquiry, the earnest and surprisingly detailed explanation was not it. Knock Out might even have ventured that this was the most personal information he'd gotten from the engineer since Ironfist's arrival in this world.

It also told him a few things that he hadn't known, though some he'd suspected. Their timeline was different, meaning that he and Ironfist were not from the same version of events. It sounded like he was from something that more closely aligned to Riptide's universe, though whether they were from the exact same one, it was impossible at this time to tell. Mention of the DJD is enough to send a shiver down his actual struts, outside parked next to the curb, but the holoform doesn't move... he still hasn't forgotten that they were dragged in as imPorts themselves, albeit before his own arrival.

But he's patient and he doesn't interrupt Ironfist's explanation, even though he's picking out select things to peruse later. He can't help it; it's four million years built in to assess things for blackmail potential, for leverage, for a favour to cash in later. But... Ironfist was surprisingly guileless in the telling. And so Knock Out tamps down the urge to poke a few barbs in his direction.

"She sounds like she was... energizing to know, and that you're better off for having met her," he says graciously. He might never come to appreciate the whole of humanity as a species, but since becoming an imPort, he's at least acknowledged that he does like some of them. Perhaps more than he'd actually admit... case of house-buying in point.

Then, in response to Ironfist having stumbled over the term at the beginning of the story, gives him an exasperated look that somehow isn't quite as cutting as it could have been. "Much as I appreciate the concession you're trying to make, you don't actually have to avoid even saying the word 'Wreckers' around me, you know," he says. "As long as you're not singing their praises... just because I have personal history with them doesn't mean you have to erase that part of yourself."

This time, Ironfist manages to correctly dab it off.

He nods at Knock Out being...well, rather surprisingly understanding reaction to everything that Ironfist had just laid out in front of him. It's actually kind of freeing, getting this all out in the open. Like he feels a bit lighter now for having acknowledged Garrus-9 for the first time since he arrived. He can't even find it in him to be suspicious of Knock Out's motives; what point is there? They already work together and they've both agreed the war stays in their own universe. Or universes; his interactions with Mizuki bear that out.

"I'm...not a Wrecker. Not really, I don't think." He admits, carefully folding the stained napkin. Surely, the admission isn't exactly a surprise to Knock Out; after all, he's met Ironfist and he is definitely not the battle-hardened soldier-type the Wreckers normally look for. "G-9 was my first mission, and I was forced onto the team. Usually the current roster votes on every new recruit; that's what they did for Pyro, Rotorstorm, and Guzzle. I was forced onto the team by Prowl, and I got told that in no uncertain terms during the mission when, uh...when I had a little bit of a freakout. See, there was one death that couldn't be avoided on this mission, and...I was on borrowed time anyway." He motions to the general spot on his head where the bullet wound would be; where the bruise that never seems to go away on his human form is hidden by his ever-present baseball cap. "I'd get one last adventure, and to go out on my own terms, and Prowl would get what he wanted; the way he sold it to me, it was a satisfactory outcome for everyone involved. Didn't quite end up shaking out that way, but I figured going in I wouldn't make it off of G-9. Turns out I made it halfway through the jump back to Earth."

Ironfist doesn't doubt for a second he's not buried in the Zone of Remembrance on Debris with the rest of the team, the ones who'd died on G-9 and all the ones who'd gone before them. That's what they did, after all, and the Wreckers took their traditions like that very seriously. Maybe the surviving Wreckers even thought he deserved to be there, that he was one of them after all. Ironfist's still having trouble believing that himself, but it's a comforting thought, at least. Maybe the more he uses the name here, the more it'll feel like he is. He'd like to believe it's true.

He reaches out and puts a hand on Knock Out's holoform shoulder and gives a sad smile. "I do appreciate you telling me that, Knock Out. I know it can't be easy for you. ...I know now how the Wreckers operate in the field much better than I ever did writing those datalogs and...it can't have been easy to try and help your comrades that we left in our wake." And Ironfist still only knew what he'd seen, with his illusions of the team shattered; Knock Out undoubtedly had a far more complete picture of the team's history. Springer had at least tried to keep them a degree of honourable, something close to the heroes Fisitron had always made them out to be in the right light.

Impactor had not. And the rest of the leaders before him probably weren't much better.

"Hm... their intake process changed, then. Early in the war, the current members got a say but Impactor held the final decision and could overrule the others."

When Ironfist relays exactly how he'd ended up attached to the Wreckers unit, he listens. It was true, he had wondered about the seeming mismatch of personality with the "usual" traits he'd known of most of their members, but the war was long and really, what squad on either side of the line hadn't tried to recruit from somewhere unconventional from time to time?

But forced against his will for the sole purpose of being killed? Knock Out's expression curdles just slightly. If his opinion of the Wreckers could possibly sink lower... but it seems a little pointless to take that out on Ironfist, especially at this stage.

"Whether or not you were part of the Wreckers is up to you to say, not them. That seems like the least you should be entitled to, for what they did."

A beat, and he glances away for a moment. "Though I may yet find a bit of use for your extensive familiarity. Was... did Moonracer join the Wreckers, in your version of events?"

Ironfist nods. "The earliest records I ever had of the Veto being used was in the sixth iteration of the team, when Valve used it against Gaspump's nomination for the team, so it must have been agreed upon before that time. Though actually, the popular view is that the first time it got used was in the 10th iteration by Hyperion since, well...we don't like to talk about Valve. You know though, I'm not sure Impactor was actually part of the team during the sixth iteration though. Pretty sure he only joined up sometime after the ninth or so." Admittedly as the Wreckers' longest-serving commanding officer, it was hard to imagine the team had ever been without him in some form, but he wasn't one of the founders.

At least talking about this is helping to lift his spirits and getting Ironfist to stop being so maudlin. Of course, "deliberately choosing him to die" hadn't been entirely how Prowl had pitched it to him; he'd used his knowledge of the "accident" (Ironfist still had no idea how Prowl of all people found out about it; maybe when he submitted the gun to Brainstorm to look at...? Something about his blackouts? Ironfist will never know.) and the high casualty rate as gauges to how "badly" Ironfist wanted the nomination; the implications hadn't become fully clear to him until they were inside the Aequitas chamber, but of course, Topspin and Twin Twist had taken care of that for them. He sometimes wondered if Prowl ever felt bad about that, but much like Skyfall, he suspected Prowl was a bot who didn't "do" guilt. How else could he operate otherwise?

He misses the subtle curdling of Knock Out's expression, too busy ruminating on his words of encouragement. "It wasn't them, not...not really." He says. "But the job had to be done and the Wreckers were the people who got all the impossible jobs done, no matter what. And it turns out I wasn't even the one who had to do it. Someone else stood up to do it just as I was making peace with the idea." He's not really ready to talk about Aequitas or what he'd learned from having its database beamed into his brain module. Surely, Springer would have left the damn thing alone and focused entirely on the prisoners if he'd been left to his own devices. Of course, the prisoners, as he'd discovered, had never been Prowl's main concern when he sent them to G-9. "But if you ever wondered why I'm having issues trusting authority right now, well...that's one of them. Still, I...think I'd like to believe I was one of them. I'm sure they treated me like I was afterward." The battle with Overlord would have gone down very differently if he hadn't been there to jury rig that chaingun, after all.

He cocks his head to one side, curiously. Knock Out actually asking for Wreckers trivia? Now this was interesting. His response requires absolutely no thinking, however; the names of each and every Wrecker is burned into his brain module. "No, he wasn't." He says. "Why, did you know him?" He starts to sound excited at the prospect; did Knock Out have a previously-unmentioned rivalry with one of the Wreckers of his own universe? Because that would be so cool.

Knock Out lets the Wreckers minutiae roll off him, though he's careful to keep the disinterest out of the holoform's expression. Knowing who served in what iteration of the Wreckers is just not where his enthusiasm is, though it's hard to mistake how Ironfist immediately perks up while conveying the information.

'Problems with authority'... yes, Knock Out supposed him being unwillingly drafted into a suicide mission by the same people he idolized was enough to shake anyone's faith in a system.

"If that's how you see the situation, then you're one insofar as I'm concerned," he answers. "Not that my opinion holds much weight on this particular topic, I admit."

Though he quiets when Ironfist immediately and confidently disproves Moonracer's involvement in the unit. He has no reason to doubt the engineer's report.

"She," Knock Out corrects. "And yes, a long time ago I did. But — at least in my timeline — she joined the Autobots and became a sniper of all things, and worked on and off with the Wreckers. I just thought if that paralleled with what you knew, I might learn some information I didn't have. It was worth a shot."

Edited 2020-08-06 06:39 (UTC)

"She?" The term catches Ironfist by surprise, but he shakes his head. "My Cybertron hasn't had female-presenting 'bots since...before the War, I think. The Primal Vanguard had a few members who decided it was a better fit for them after spending some time off-world but...I don't think any of them are still around."

He glances curiously at Knock Out. "Maybe you can answer a question for me then." But for a moment he hesitates. "You know a Decepticon named Overlord?"

Now it's Knock Out's turn to be caught off guard, and he tilts his head quizzically at Ironfist. "Since before the war?" he echoed. "Mechs who demarcate themselves with a female pronoun have been around as long as Cybertronians have been interacting off-world with other species. There's nothing particularly unusual about it where I'm from. Certainly I'd say more mechs opt for a male pronoun or don't bother specifying, but it's not like those going by female ones are rare by any stretch. And here I thought the colour of our energon was the strangest difference between our universes."

The medic's expression tinges distinctly toward unease at Ironfist's next question. "Of course," he answers. "As you mentioned before, he's one of Megatron's Phase Sixers. I know of him certainly, though it's not as if we've ever been introduced. Thankfully. I don't know whether Overlord was at Garrus-9 in my world, but I do know that Skyquake isn't. He was in long term stasis on Earth until he was reactivated by Starscream, and shortly thereafter — and by that I mean within the hour — killed by the Autobots."

Edited 2020-08-16 03:03 (UTC)

"I think I remember hearing something about a female Cybertronian being involved with that Dead Universe incident a few years back, but I'm not sure what happened to her. I didn't have much to do with it other than getting to read some of the data on Scattershot's team's work refining the polydermal grafting process and overhearing some talk about it in the Exit Rooms though." The Wreckers had been involved, and even fought Thunderwing, or whatever was left of Thunderwing, but it had been off on Corata-Vaz. Still made for a fairly epic fight scene in the associated datalogue, Wreckers Declassified: Thunder in the Sky, log 314.

"If he's anything like the Overlord of my universe, be glad of that. Our Overlord is..." Ironfist trails off, not sure there's any word that he can think of that would do justice to just what, exactly, their Overlord was. "Anyway, he wasn't strictly-speaking an actual Phase Sixer in mine; he was one of the Warriors Elite that were precursors to the Phase Sixers, along with Sixshot and Black Shadow, but when Megatron tried to make Overlord one too, he deserted on the spot. I guess that's what got our Skyquake killed when he showed up at G-9; he tried to make an issue out of it."

"Well. Thanks for filling me in. He's in Autobot custody now, and I don't expect he's ever going to see the light of day again. I was just curious, is all."

His clipped tone indicates curiosity was far from the only thing about his inquiry.

"Strange. In any case, Moonracer is one who picked up the female pronoun preference, but if she isn't associated with the Wreckers in your universe, there'd be no reason for you to know of her."

He feels foolish for asking, in hindsight; it had been pure impulse. He's quick to focus on Ironfist's remarks about Overlord, and it's impossible to miss that tone and what it implies. Still, Knock Out contemplates his reply for a moment — here is hardly the time and place for it.

"Riptide and I never got too deeply into comparing where and how our two universes diverged. Partly because he came online much later, but it might... be an interesting exercise. With a fair amount of candidness and some liberal application of high grade. If you were so inclined."

"Oh yeah?" Ironfist cocks his head, thinking. "You know, that's not a bad idea, actually. There's things about your universe I'm curious about too." Moreso now that the topic of Moonracer has brought up a rather significant difference in their two Cybertrons. And fine Energon only sweetens the deal. "Sure, count me in. I can help Riptide fill in some of the gaps since I came online pre-war." And Riptide can talk about all the stuff that happened after Ironfist died. "When were you thinking? I'll make sure my schedule is clear."

Knock Out names a time and date ~~that is yet to be decided for the log~~ that should work for all of them, and makes a mental note to distill another high grade batch between now and then.

"I'll let you get back to your refueling," he added with a light tease at the term. "I'll go say goodbye to Mizuki."

[it'll take some guidance from Gladion himself to get Martin down here to this new place -- a new location notwithstanding, Martin isn't the sort to travel alone on routes he doesn't commonly take.

during the day.

it's so kriffing hot and bright out.

but Martin doesn't complain...openly. it comes in his unconscious cues -- extra huffs, uncomfortable shifting in place during idle moments under the hellish sky-orb, and with the way he practically withers on the spot once within the confines of the new house.

behold, the gremlin: sweaty, kind of smelly (sorry), with comically large, thick sunglasses and a tennis visor on. he may be miserable, but he's here to help his friend; friends are dwindling in numbers lately, so he's very intent on helping those remaining...maybe even attempting to make other friends as well? Gladion said he could.

so...

here's to trying!

even if he messes that up, at least things will get unboxed quicker and an extra tall person is always helpful in rearranging/reaching things.]

Think fast!

[ Martin probably wasn't expecting a chilled plastic water bottle to be hurled at him, but that's exactly what's happening. It'll smack right into him if he doesn't catch it, but the kid will be fine, Magnus reasons. It's plastic. It's not gonna hurt him.

Whether he catches it or not, Magnus is quick with the justification of: ] ...you looked hot.

[think fast? Martin? of course not.]

Gah-! Wuh-?!

[he wasn't ready to be lobbed much of anything, but he can at least scramble to keep the bottle from hitting the floor, looking about in alarm and confusion before fixing on the big guy explaining the surprise attack.

he blinks, his sunglasses slipping down the bridge of his nose.]

...Oh. Oh, uh. Than-thank you, sir.

[Open] Moving time!

OTA with one closed prompt to the trio

The trio, clearly

Pokemons in the way!

A.

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C

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Break - B

1-A

OTA

Break Time

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more open

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