(no subject)
Who: Sideswipe and Optimus Prime
What: Sideswipe and Optimus have a run in with their respective shadows in the "dungeon" the creatures have constructed. Not as planned.
Where: A different kind of labyrinth
When: Right now! ... Ongoing.
Warnings:
Notes: Musical Number is go!
Theoretically, the alley should have taken them toward the South. That was where Optimus' friend was, after all. Sideswipe had figured Optimus would want to check on her, first -- like he had all the other times a storm had hit. He hadn't, however, counted on running into that... gateway... and it had appeared too quickly for even his relfexes to avoid. He had gone plowing straight through it.
And instead of ending up on the other side of the street... he finds himself somewhere he's never before seen in Nautilus -- somewhere he hasn't seen in centuries.
It looks as if someone has cut out and pasted random geometric shapes into positions vaguely resembling order. Metallic beams running left and right, up, down, and sideways. Here and there were patches of broken, rusted panels. Some portions sagged, as if some internal structure had been broken. The ground, the metal beneath careful feet, felt brittle, hollow. Peering over the edge of a walkway resulted in a view of nothing but the same, twisted structures, spiraling down further into a dark, and hungry pit. Staring too long made the eyes begin to play tricks, seeing a vast, uneasy shape begin to stir to slow wakefulness. Closer examination shows that while the paths point in many different directions, they are all, ultimately, pointing down, taking any wanderers deeper, lower, into the seething, seeking blackness.
Above them hang bodies. Here and there, the pathways seem to sprout thorns, of some kind, and impaled upon each is a corpse -- all metal, all Cybertronian, all gathered from a multitude of universes and backgrounds, all dead. Their blank eyes seem to track the motions of passersby, their mouths parted in silent accusations. There is no sign of who hung them there, or why. And no way to remove them from their perches.
All around moans a sluggish, dry wind. It is full of bits of grit and dirt, carrying with it the scent of decay, of slow moldering, and the hot, harsh bite of fire. Occasionally, it stirs up a puff of black dirt, and sends bits and pieces of broken metal clattering against the ground in a funeral dirge of shrapnel. It is the only sound to be heard, save for the occasional creak and groan of the pathways -- the soft clang of the broken bodies hanging from twisted spikes as they sway like flags.
The only light comes from the fat, bloated moon hanging in the sky. It's smooth, its face unmarked by craters, settlements, or anything else indicating life. Not even stars can be seen, the sky too choked with smoke, the wind too weak to blow it away.
This world is dead.
For all intents and purposes, they seemed to be the only living things in this world -- on this Cybertron. Or... they would be... if not for the vague whispers carried on the wind. The snippets of voices sounding so familiar. The glimpse of something moving out of the corner of the eye. A flash of metal -- a glimpse of something glowing.
But when they turn their head to see it, focus on listening, it's gone.
Sideswipe seems to recover first -- he's seen this before. It's his home, after all. He looks at his companion.
"Here we go?"
What: Sideswipe and Optimus have a run in with their respective shadows in the "dungeon" the creatures have constructed. Not as planned.
Where: A different kind of labyrinth
When: Right now! ... Ongoing.
Warnings:
Notes: Musical Number is go!
Theoretically, the alley should have taken them toward the South. That was where Optimus' friend was, after all. Sideswipe had figured Optimus would want to check on her, first -- like he had all the other times a storm had hit. He hadn't, however, counted on running into that... gateway... and it had appeared too quickly for even his relfexes to avoid. He had gone plowing straight through it.
And instead of ending up on the other side of the street... he finds himself somewhere he's never before seen in Nautilus -- somewhere he hasn't seen in centuries.
It looks as if someone has cut out and pasted random geometric shapes into positions vaguely resembling order. Metallic beams running left and right, up, down, and sideways. Here and there were patches of broken, rusted panels. Some portions sagged, as if some internal structure had been broken. The ground, the metal beneath careful feet, felt brittle, hollow. Peering over the edge of a walkway resulted in a view of nothing but the same, twisted structures, spiraling down further into a dark, and hungry pit. Staring too long made the eyes begin to play tricks, seeing a vast, uneasy shape begin to stir to slow wakefulness. Closer examination shows that while the paths point in many different directions, they are all, ultimately, pointing down, taking any wanderers deeper, lower, into the seething, seeking blackness.
Above them hang bodies. Here and there, the pathways seem to sprout thorns, of some kind, and impaled upon each is a corpse -- all metal, all Cybertronian, all gathered from a multitude of universes and backgrounds, all dead. Their blank eyes seem to track the motions of passersby, their mouths parted in silent accusations. There is no sign of who hung them there, or why. And no way to remove them from their perches.
All around moans a sluggish, dry wind. It is full of bits of grit and dirt, carrying with it the scent of decay, of slow moldering, and the hot, harsh bite of fire. Occasionally, it stirs up a puff of black dirt, and sends bits and pieces of broken metal clattering against the ground in a funeral dirge of shrapnel. It is the only sound to be heard, save for the occasional creak and groan of the pathways -- the soft clang of the broken bodies hanging from twisted spikes as they sway like flags.
The only light comes from the fat, bloated moon hanging in the sky. It's smooth, its face unmarked by craters, settlements, or anything else indicating life. Not even stars can be seen, the sky too choked with smoke, the wind too weak to blow it away.
This world is dead.
For all intents and purposes, they seemed to be the only living things in this world -- on this Cybertron. Or... they would be... if not for the vague whispers carried on the wind. The snippets of voices sounding so familiar. The glimpse of something moving out of the corner of the eye. A flash of metal -- a glimpse of something glowing.
But when they turn their head to see it, focus on listening, it's gone.
Sideswipe seems to recover first -- he's seen this before. It's his home, after all. He looks at his companion.
"Here we go?"