Kitai flew to a nice secluded tower where he could talk out loud.
“Yes.It was the best idea to be here,surrounded by people,to find out who i am.
And it turns out i’m one of the FREAKING MOST TERRIFYING ENEMIES OF CYBERTRON.” His guilt weighed in his voice. How many did i kill? Why did i kill so many? Why don’t i act the same way anymore?
Kitai groaned in frustration. “Should i even tell anyone? Yes Kitai, you should do that,because you’ll be stinkin disintegrated.”
He sighed. “Y’Know,if anyone was listening,i wonder what they think im talking about.”
“Nobody important, I assure you,” Beta Maxx insists. Then, he gets a coy look in his eyes. “Well, not unless the name ‘Optimus Prime’ means anything to you.”
“I hope you find something that helps,” the black-and-purple bot says sincerely.
The drone emits a short, harsh buzzing sound in response.
“Say ‘please’,” it says in its flat, monotone voice.
As the night progressed, the celebration gradually wound down and came to an end. The organic visitors found places to sleep, or left Iacon to return to their homes elsewhere. Most of the cybertronian tourists departed after the festivities were over, and the vendors left with them when there was no more business to be conducted. Apart from some minor accidents and a humorous account of an altercation between Maximus and an unknown robot, the celebration was a smashing success in the eyes of those tasked with ensuring security. The Fifth Vanguard Fleet, which had been stationed in orbit over Iacon for most of the day, would be departing soon to conduct regular maneuvers.
The next day dawns as Cybertron’s sun rises over the horizon, casting its orange rays through Iacon’s towers and terraces, and making the whole city come alive in a heavenly glow. The sky is clear and blue, and the twin moons of Hecate and Artemis can be seen setting toward the west. Iacon feels emptier now, which may be a welcome feeling to some. The tourists are lesser in number now and nowhere near as rowdy as the night before, and even the Knights of Cybertron seem more relaxed as they walk the streets, taking more time to bask in the beauty of Cybertron’s oldest city.
There is an exciting energy in the air as each and every cybertronian knows that, for the first time in a long, long while, the universe is open to them again.
@Flux
The Iacon Hall of Records is, as always, open to the public. Built into one of the ancient towers holding up the rest of the city, the Hall of Records is ringed by concentric outdoor study areas around its main entrance. In these open spaces are seats, desks, and consoles at which visitors can access the Hall’s digital libraries, while the interior of the building houses its server rooms and its collections of historical artifacts and restricted databases. Of course, one would need special permission from the facility’s staff to view the restricted sections- their contents are either too sensitive to share freely, or are contained in ancient and irreplicable storage devices that couldn’t be trusted to just anyone.
If Machina wished to follow up on the suggestions of the Excalibur II crew, she’d be bound to find at least some answers here.
@meepinater
XM-333 receives a message from their superiors over their comm system, ordering them to report to Iacon’s spaceport for departure. The dignitaries they’d been assigned to protect had concluded their business on Cybertron, and were now ready to return to Avalon Prime.
OOC: I don’t mean to cut any interactions short, so it’s not like this is some terribly huge timeskip or anything. Definitely feel free to keep your characters together and keep them talking, if you want. Let’s just say all this stuff is happening while they’re doing their thing.
“Interesting.” was Aralysa’s only reply.
“Well it was nice talking with you, but we’ve got to go now. Come on, Stonefist.” she said, gesturing to her stoney friend. The rocky robot reluctantly came over, and with that the two transformers left.
Macina smiled, she would spend much of the night by her lonesome and after finishing the drink she would take off, disappearing into the night.
Early the next morning, Machina took to the Hall of Records. She would take her time finding the path there, but she would surely find herself at the entrance.
The outside study areas around the building have many visitors, either engrossed in some text or another, or simply enjoying a moment in this quiet place to start their morning. Around the exterior rings, enormous statues of Knights of Cybertron kneel facing the central tower, and hovering drones tend to installments of techno-organic flowers and hedges. The Hall’s staff- marked by a diamond-shaped insignia on their bodies- wander about the premises, helping the guests find articles of interest or escorting them inside the building on some errand or another.
Conjoint was consumed with looking at Roaster and the words didn’t process for a moment.
“Huh? What- oh.” He sighed. “Flying nuisance, get me the most powerful alcoholic beverage on the face of Cybertron, Please.”
“And a good length of rope.” He murmured.
The other patrons in the business had come and gone, but as dawn began to crawl over the horizon, one Junkion was in a bitter mood - and his body language clearly conveyed it. His hand clutched the cup in unfathomable tension, the golden glow of the sun baking the world in red incomparable to how much red he was already seeing.
Could he simply not get drunk?
That was a thought that had entered his mind while waiting for his second drink to come. He pried his hand from the cup and counted out exactly how much he owed from his change, considering the horrible ramifications of what life offered if for some reason, his little cosmetic surgery had rendered him incapable of intoxicating himself.
I promised myself I wouldn’t do anything nearly as suicidal as what I had done. Conjoint frowned at the lack of a second drink in his hand. But then again, I was drunk at the time.
Cargo would lead her through the dispersing crowds while simultaneously looking to make some conversation.
“I haven’t had the pleasure of meeting humans before,” he says, rubbing his head underneath of this hat. “You’re the first.”
Zip
Zip shrugs. “Of course, once you’ve done it as many times as I have, you start to become really good at being unemployed.” When he says this, his eyes droop downwards (not that he’s been making eye contact with Maximus this entire time) and he cancels his hover as he plants both feet onto the ground.
As the next day dawned over Cybertron, both Stonefist and Aralysa were already up and about. Pointing to the western sky, Aralysa told her friend,
“Look Stonefist, there’s my home!” for she was gesturing to the Cybertronian moon Hecate, where the purple and blue transformer had come from.
“Aaaaah.” Stonefist sighed. He never got tired of seeing the sun rise over Cybertron. That’s one memory I haven’t forgotten, he remarked to himself as the day began. Just then, Aralysa bounded up to him, full of energy, and exclaimed,
“I know just where to head next. To the Hall of Records!”
Stonefist considered this for a moment, then replied,
“Alright then, lead the way.” without his usual gruffness. His companion did just that, and the two transformers started making their way through Iacon once again, with Stonefist following behind Aralysa as they headed for the Hall of Records.
Low-Tide had stayed with them through the night, and wouldn’t be difficult to find.
“Yeah, well the feeling is mutual. I’ve never seen… Whatever you guys are until today. A whole planet of giant robots, it’s been a lot to take in.”
Nova replied.
“If it helps, I’m sure we could find some work for you two here in Iacon.”
Axis interjected.
The drone returns with a drink that would hopefully satisfy Conjoint’s request, setting it down and giving the same “thank you for your patronage” message as the other drones did.
One of the reasons that Maccadam’s is so beloved by many is that the barkeep always keeps his prices extraordinarily low; Conjoint would have enough to pay his tab.
The Hall of Records always had many visitors, but both its interior and exterior spaces were so vast that it rarely felt especially crowded. Today, there are visitors from the other cybertronian worlds, along with some organic tourists, seated in the outdoor areas. The facility is, as always, very quiet, with conversations being carried in hushed tones so as to not disturb those lost in a good book or engrossed in research.
Snowblind stands atop a rooftop terrace, enjoying the sense of calm as she watches the moons set. She had managed to extricate herself from the awkward mess she had made last night without too much extra hassle, apologizing one last time before vanishing into the night. From there it hadn’t been hard to find a place to lie low on the edge of town - cheap and off-the-books, of course. It was a bit grimier than the rest of the city had been, but she was used to it.
Her eyes drift away from the moons for a moment. To the spaceport. When she had arrived here last night, getting out had been the only thing on her mind. Now? She wasn’t so sure. Sure, Iacon may be the seat of an Imperium she historically had… disagreements with, but she hadn’t gotten caught so far. Maybe there was some good she could do here.
A few minutes later she’s back out on the streets. She keeps an eye out, looking for a friendly shop or tavern that might be open after the night’s festivities.
“Well, now,” Conjoint muttered as he never processed the drone’s message. “I guess I owe Machiavelli or whatever his name was for the affordability of this nonsense. Here’s to not extinguishing my spark so far.”
Raising the glass, he downed the entire thing in one go and sat, waiting for the impossibly strong after effects to surely start kicking in and giving him the respite he so desperately craved.
Kitai watched the sun rise. Strangely,he felt older than usual. Perhaps it was because of the surgery. He once again began to fly to Headcase’s clinic to see if he was there. This is starting to get repetitive. Kitai thought.
He nods. “We must appear rather strange to you. It seems that while this sudden new world we’ve both been thrown into is exciting and incredible, it also has led to some rather sharp tension between us.” The bot holds out a metal hand. “The name’s Cargo, by the way.”
As always, Maccadam’s is open for business. In all its history, there was no record of the tavern ever closing its doors- even when Iacon had come under siege. The day the bright green “OPEN” hologram by the front entrance flickered out would be a dark day indeed.
Headcase was once again in his office, and the door is unlocked.