outer_divide | [OPEN

[Another Cybertronian. The metallic timbre of the voice cuts through Wing's reverie. Another of his kind. He's not alone!

[But...that means another of their kind is stranded here; another who has lost his freedom. ]

It's not Cybertron, no. But you are not alone here.

Wing?

[He clears his visual cluster just to ensure that this isn't some sort of lingering processor ghost caught in his cache from being in stasis for who-knows-how-long. Wing remains. Perceptor smiles; the curve of his lip components looks a little uncertain and out of place, as if it's not something he does normally.]

Wing. So you've been brought here, too. Who else?

[A startled blink. How did he know Wing's name?]

I-I'm sorry, friend. I don't recognize you.

...and thus far...just me. And many 'humans'.

[The smile vanishes.]

You... don't remember? Do you remember Kaon?

Kaon?

[He looks bemused.]

Before the war, Megatron's stronghold. Where it all began.

[He has no idea what Perceptor's getting at.]

Oh.

[In other words, Wing doesn't recall the broken Kaon where Perceptor had first met the Knight. Either his memories have been tampered with, or this is not his Wing.]

My apologies. I met a Wing once. In another universe.

[Perceptor schools his expression; he's learned to be much more guarded since Turmoil's ship.]

Just you, and now me, so there are only two Cybertronians here, then?

[That makes this the second time that a Wing has been alone. The Knight seems to attract solitude about him like a cloak.]

Humans. [He wonders if Verity might be one of them or not.] Are there many of them? Some of this damage seems recent, [he indicates the bombed waste with a flick of one hand, and nods toward the alien ship he is standing just outside of.] and the ship's power seems damaged. There are many more stasis pods within; they're at risk.

Another me.

[That was distressing, but he'd heard of something like it from the humans. Other people, other 'Earth's.]

I wonder how our worlds are different, then. Mine is ravaged by war.

Yes. I--we--are unique here. [He rubs a collar around his neck idly.] And if you have any abilities, you might want to keep them secret. For now.

We were attacked by the indigenous people. They tried to destroy the ship. And us. The strongest of us were collared. I had a clamp on my wings. And the pods...concern me.

As is mine. Cybertron is a dead world in my time, so badly damaged by war that it is inimical to our kind now. When are you from, Wing.

Oh, ah, my name is Perceptor. [Since Wing would not reme- er, know that.]

[Perceptor's attention is drawn to that collar suddenly, and his calm neutrality melts under a dark glare. Wing? Collared like some... some pet or slave? How dare they!?]

I have no abilities.

[Wing clamped, even?! Perceptor's optics flare brightly with anger, barely held in check.]

Can you meet with me, Wing? [He is an engineer, after all, and if he could foil Aequitas, no mere collar will survive his dexterous tools.]

It...ours had seemed like that when we left. The two factions destroying each other, us, anything that lived. Like things possessed.

[The name means nothing; not even a flash of recognition.]

Yes. It would be...a relief to meet one of my own kind. [Because that's what mattered, as much as it shouldn't. One of his own kind. Without mistrust.]

I can meet you outside the ship?

[Oh. The faction debate. Perceptor will not enjoy having those discussions again. Of course, this is not the Wing he knew, and so, who knows how the debate may go this time?]

[Perceptor nods, his expression softening for a moment before slipping back to that solemn neutrality. The Wing he had known had not really been one to enjoy such total isolation. Some solitude, yes, but the loneliness of complete isolation?]

Yes. I will wait for you here.

[There is no debate: The factions ruined everything.]

[The isolation had bothered him, more than he wanted to admit. He had things to guard here, things to protect. A Knight needs a mission, after all. But still...he missed his own kind.]

Perceptor. Thank you.

[Wing hops down from the cliff he'd been sitting on, surveying the Old City, where the humans both local and newcomers like himself, bustled. Another solitude.]

[No, corruption ruined everything. The factions were merely a symptom, and an expression of a deeper problem.]

[Hardly unsurprising that the isolation had bothered Wing; Perceptor is used to dealing with humans, but he doubts that Wing had ever heard of them before arriving here. It's stressful to have to watch one's self, purely to keep from inadvertently injuring one of the smaller, more fragile biological entities.]

Do not thank me yet. [Perceptor's lip components twitch into the barest ghost of a rueful smile.] You may yet find me unpalatable. [But he nods, accepting Wing's gratitude.]

[Now, to wait. Perceptor tries not to allow his hopes to rise; this isn't the Wing he knew. He steps a little further away from the ship and watches the sky.]

[Corruption is an abstraction, Perceptor. But it was very, very real mechs who had destroyed Cybertron.]

Unpalatable? [Wing shrugged, amused.] I find that hard to imagine. [Drift, after all, had none of this Perceptor's dignity and quiet manners. And they had gotten along.]

[He skitters down the last few feet of the rockface, landing beside the ship's opening in a pile of pebbles. And looks...up. Perceptor is taller than he is.]

[He smiles.] It's good to see you, whether you can help or not. A mech is not simply what he can do, after all. It's who he is inside that counts.

[It was also very real mechs who drove Megatron to rise up. What would Wing have had them do? Sit back and watch Megatron destroy everything?]

[The sound of shifting stone draws his attention, and he turns, watching as Wing appears carefully sliding down the cliff wall. He can't help but to answer that smile with a smaller one of his own, and he holds out one hand in greeting.]

Who a mech is, though, is expressed by his actions. Or lack thereof. It is good to see you as well, Wing.

[He can't keep his attention from straying to that reprehensible collar, though. It's... ugly and wrong on the Knight.]

May I? [He nods toward the collar, his fingers itching to work the fetter free.]

[The Autobots do not have clean hands in this, Perceptor. Who sided with Zeta Prime as he was killing mechs in Nyon?]

Actions only speak to part of it, Perceptor. There's always intent. Right but for the wrong reasons can be just as dangerous as wrong.

[Wing nods, turning his back to the other, bowing his head down to clear the view.] The others have gotten them off, but they appear to need several to accomplish it.

I...made a mistake and this is their punishment.

[No one has clean hands. Not even the Knights. For all that the Knights managed to save, how many were left behind and lost? Or nearly lost.]

Wrong, but with the right intent can be likewise. [But Perceptor nods in agreement.]

What mistake? Ah, your Greatsword, please. [He'd finally gotten used to thinking of it was Wing's sword, and not Drift's. That reminds Perceptor...]

You did not say when you were from.

[But that's his point: the Circle's intentions were good. Neither of the factions' were. The Circle of Light seeks to save, while both Autobots and Decepticons want to destroy.]

Indeed. But results cannot be controlled--intent can. Thus it's the only thing worthy to be judged.

Mistake. I was trying to defend the ship, and they saw what I could do.

[Some of it. Not all. He's grateful for that.]

[He shrugs, sheepishly, reaching gently behind to draw the large sword. His hands close over it reverently. It was his only tie to home. ]

Crystal City. We are...safe there.

[Things change. Intents change. There is more to what Cybertron had been and has become than what the Circle knew when it fled.]

What could you do that they found so threatening? [Perceptor needs to know just how much of himself he needs to hide, now.] Flight? Martial abilities?

[Perceptor could have removed the sword himself and handed it to Wing, but that would have been disrespectful. The Wing he knew had spoken at length with him about a great many things. Philosophy, history, the Circle of Light... so Perceptor has an inkling what the Sword means.]

Yes. Do you know of one called Drift? [That will place Wing more exactly for Perceptor. And, with luck, offer the connection he misses?]

[The collar's functions are rather straightforward, and Perceptor feels his anger flaring again. Wing, wing-clipped. How. Dare. They. There's a flurry of small clicks and whirs as he deploys the microtools from his fingertips to examine it in detail.]

They are humans here, Perceptor. Defending the ship, I was deemed threatening. My size, my abilities. [The fact he sliced off a stabilizer with stunning accuracy, etc.]

Drift. [The words, the name, gives him pause, and Perceptor might feel a tremor of recognition which would have given Wing away even if he had tried to lie.] Yes. He...was my friend. [He thought. But he'd thought Drift wouldn't have betrayed them, either.]

I--if it's not too much trouble, could you examine the flight systems as well? A human repaired them, but... [He trails off. Nothing against Narvin's abilities but another Cybertronian would know the systems better.]

Ah. So, everything about us will frighten them. Have you transformed?

[Once he gets this collar off of Wing, he must find some means to neutralize them, because it seems likely that Wing may end up collared again, and that Perceptor will end up collared, as well. It's frustrating, though; it looks as if he will require more assistance to remove it safely.]

[Perceptor huffs a thin little sigh, born of equal parts relief and disappointment. Wing knows Drift, and so there will be much that Perceptor can tell Wing. Unfortunately, one of those things that he could tell Wing is about his own impending death.]

Was? [Unless, of course, this Wing comes from a completely different reality altogether.]

Of course. No trouble at all, Wing. I am an engineer, among other things. I was a scientist, once. Do you have other friends here? I may require assistance in removing this... collar.

It appears so, yes. I've done my beset to convince them I am harmless but... [He shows his palms in defeat. Some seemed impossible to convince. Even among their allies.]

Was. I do not know what became of him, after.... [His voice chokes a little bit on the last word.] After I died.

I have...perhaps not 'friends'. But there are others who have assisted me. Or who may see it as their best interest to have me operational. [Which is a sad thing he would settle for.]

[Perceptor nods.] I have interacted with humans; they are a young and volatile species. Quite reactionary, and easily triggered. [His hands pause, just for a moment, as he considered Verity.] But fiercely loyal, one their friendship is given.

[And his hands pause again.] Ah. I was not certain if you knew of that yet. [So much for the nascent hope that Wing might be spared that.]

He prospers. He will be given your Sword when he leaves New Crystal City, and he will travel the systems seeking to end injustice and help those in need. I think you would be proud of what he becomes from the gifts you gave him.

[His voice drops to a quiet murmur.] I would not live, if it were not for him.

[Back to normal volume now, as he heaves a sigh and steps back.] Can you call them? Two, I think. [He frowns, jaw clenched with distaste.] I will need their help for this.

They seem nice: knowing what the war has done across their galaxy, I cannot blame their hesitation to trust us. One named Kirk has explained that they often don't have fond memories of our kind.

[He gives a soft sound, his hands brushing his chassis.] Yes. I know. I remember. [He has mixed feelings: his wing panels rustle. Drift lived, free.] He is, then, free of the war. [He hopes.]

[Wing half-turns, as if seeing Perceptor right now was important, with this new knowledge. He had saved Drift. Drift had saved another. Like a link that bound them.]

I will ask who might help.

They were unaware of the existence of other life before our arrival on their world. They are young, yet.

[Perceptor can't say that he blames the humans for being wary, though. They are very fragile compared to the average Cybertronian, their world, just as much. And the war... regardless of how it had begun, it had become something very different. It had become destruction writ large across the galaxy. He isn't certain what he feels about any of it any longer. Not since Kaon. Since seeing hints of how it had all begun. Of his part, all unwitting, in its genesis.]

Hindsight.

[He sighs and shakes his head, as he reaches out to grasp Wing's arm, a gesture meant to comfort, perhaps.]

Do not be angry with him, Wing. The war you left behind has evolved into another monster entirely. Drift chooses to do what he can to end the war.

[Perceptor waits calmly, though there's a certain hesitation in his expression. He wonders if Wing is disappointed in what he sees. Drift is the link that connects them, yes, but it is still a link forged in the war, tempered by it. Nurtured by it.]

[At least until Drift had left Perceptor behind.]

I take it your kind are quite common where you come from?

[Hm. A human.]

That would depend upon what you mean by 'where I am from'. On my planet, my kind are all that lived there. Within my on universe, we are numerous enough.

Great. Another toaster. Color me absolutely thrilled.

[Toaster? How... quaint. He resists the impulse to respond with his amazement that viruses had learned to speak; no need to stoop to her level, after all.]

Would that be nearer mauve or puce?

Ha! A sense of humor. Guess the software's getting better.

Yes. We don't share the human flaw of not being able to update our social interaction protocols.

[If that were any drier, the video feed might crackle up into dust and blow away.]

There's this little thing called heuristic learning. We don't follow algorithmic protocols, or need to get firmware upgrades, we're constantly changing and evolving already, adapting to our environment. That's what being human is all about. If it's a flaw, it's one I'll wear with pride.

[Oh, if the irony were any thicker, he'd choke on it. Fortunately, he doesn't need to breathe.]

Your species does not own the patent on heuristic learning. Mine perfected it before yours managed to drag itself upright.

Maybe in your universe, pal. But in mine? We created you. If it weren't for us, you wouldn't even exist to get mouthy with me. So yeah, we do own the patent on heuristic learning where I come from.

Your species developed an entirely alien race. [That's the tones of bored disbelief.]

Your race may have developed machines, however, your species did not create my race, neither in your universe, nor in mine.

[he really can't help but grin, even as he answers]

We're on a world called Verdana. Precisely why I couldn't tell you.

[There's something almost infectious about the human's smile, and Perceptor finds himself almost mirroring it. It's as much a smile as he generally allows himself these days, at least.]

Verdana. Not a world I have heard of before.

[He tilts his head, a look of curiosity on his face.]

No grand destinies? No declarations of fate and the chosen ones?

I'd not heard of it either, which is quite interesting in itself.

[he's trying not to stare, but he can't stop himself from a little bit of admiring scrutiny] I've heard nothing about destiny, but there is an Oracle about.

[Perceptor quirks a brow ridge.]

Quite interesting? Are you well traveled in your reality?

[The humans from his own had just barely started exploring their own solar system, after all.]

An Oracle? [Please be more sane than Alpha Trion.] What, or who, is this Oracle?

Oh, yes. You could say it's my speciality.

I've not met the Oracle myself, yet. From what I've heard she's cryptic but trustworthy.

[The scientist buried within peeks out for a moment.]

Intriguing. Perhaps you would be willing to share your experiences with me later?

I'd be delighted. I imagine you've some tales to tell, as well.

[OPEN - VIDEO]

[video] for the moment can we say he doesn't see the Autobot insignia?

Re: [video] absotively! the glare got in his optics or the camera is tilted wrong. ;)

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