Startling Discoveries at Retoris

Retoris Outskirts - Retoris

Protected on three sides by natural defenses, the only way into the harmonious and progressive city of Retoris is through the massive defensive structure known as The Wall, a medieval but effective enclosure punctuated by two devastating neutron cannons. The Wall spreads out in either direction, making you feel rather tiny... Ahead in the distance, the Golden Gates of Retoris shine in the sun, underscored by the beautiful music of deadlocked traffic.

Contents:

Autobot Base 

Retoris 

Retoris Defenses 

Obvious Exits:

Up   Out 

Retoris Defenses 

Punch arrives from the Sky over the Iacon Region.

Punch has arrived.

Arcee arrives in Retoris driving a light-transport cargo. It isn't a shuttle, it's more like the equivalent of what humans would call a 'dump truck'. It's very large in that the cab can seat two 'regular' sized mechs comfortably, and it can haul a heavy amount in its cargo bed. The drawback to this utility vehicle is that it's extremely slow, and until very recently, most were shuttered away in storage because of their extreme vulnerability to Decepticon raids.

Arcee has the perfect job for this vehicle, however, and now that there's barely any Decepticons around, it's less risky to use this transport between Iacon and Retoris. While Retoris has been partially cleaned up and rebuilt from its demolition, there's still scraps here that can be salvaged and made into new fortifications.

"<< Hey Punch, >>" Arcee tightbeams as she parks the transport and jumps out, "<< I'm over in Retoris doing some maintenance today, if you're looking for me. Or heck, even if you want to join me, that would be fine. This isn't glamorous work, though. >>"

"<< On my way, happy to help, happier to keep you company. >>" Is the return hail. Punch may be feeling a bit better. This isn't necessarily good for him. As he descends from the skies it's easy to see why. Foot jets flaring, flames curling and curving like the smoke that usually adorns his cig Punch increases speed. Oh, he's making the approach head first.

Should have mentioned it earlier. As he gets closer he turns the straight dive into a curve and, aided by further fire in the flames, the blinding white hot trail masking his presense, Punch sweeps past the ground, then back skyward. Cutting his jets high in the sky the doublespy stays frozen in the air, free from support, before gently gliding downward.

Landing on one knee, Punch looks up. Seeing Arcee he waves as he stands. "Hi. You called? I'm here. Just tell me what we're doing." Punch says with a broad smile. Maybe he used up more energy doing that trick than recovering and recharging... but he seems even happier for doing it.

Arcee grins as Punch comes flying into Retoris. "Fantastic landing!" she exclaims. "Okay, I know this place is kind of a mess. It's because the Decepticons hit it extremely hard, ripped most of the defense wall down and killed a lot of the residents some time ago. A major attack. Good news is, we were able to begin reconstruction and as you can see, while things are mostly vacant, they're no longer just a pile of debris. What I'm trying to do here is to gather up some remnants for smelting. Typically Ops or Maintenance would be doing this, but as you know...we're missing just about everyone...but it's still a necessary task. If we're going to get the fortifications back in shape, materials are needed. The smelter also helps replenish our ammo stockpile. Anything you see laying around that was once a part of the old wall, just toss it in the back of the transport. That's all there is to it," she instructs.

Punch nods and says happily, "It's moving metal, not boxes, but I'm sure I can get into the swing of it easily enough." trying to take a step forwards proves more difficult. Punch looks down at his feet then to his chestplate. "Don't even." is all he says to his temporary charge. Punch doesn't really know if the Matrix can hear him, or if he can hear it, but he assumes it couldn't hurt.

Slighting a bottle of coolant in each hand Punch looks back to Arcee, smiles brighter in the hop it somehow disguises the situation and says, "I'll get started in just a moment. I may need to cool a little before I can get moving." Punch then uncaps the bottles and pours the contents on his lower body, waving the resulting steam away as the coolant helps rapidly cool his overheating casing.

"Okay, sure! Take your time. We have nothing *but* time, at the moment, and it's something to be appreciated," Arcee says, picking through some random mess on the ground and uncovering a few small metal plates and some rebar, which she scoops up and flings into the back of the transport. "Does the Matrix talk to you?" she asks curiously.

One foot parting from the floor easily enough, Punch makes a noise at the effort to free the other. "It's funny you ask." Punch says as, now mobile, he's able to start picking up some scraps and piling them on to a bigger plate which he then hefts towards the transport, "Every scrap of intelligence says that it couldn't, that it shouldn't but..." He sighs. Then he screws up his face.

Dropping the current load into the transport Punch turns his back on it and leans against it, "... This'll sound crazy. Like, really, I could get removed from the field and placed in a rubber room crazy... but... I haven't been thinking the same. What seemed impossible... isn't. What didn't make sense is easy. It didn't come from some epiphany or a new bit of intel." Punch shrugs, "I have a theory... although it may sound silly."

Arcee's optics widen to circles, and she freezes in place, holding a bundle of broken pipes and wires. "...Please do. Because I've never heard of that before. No one can communicate with it. Or even open it, unless it wants to be opened."

"Limited reports from... Optimus." Punch pauses and shakes his head, "Rodimus and other Primes... talk about the Matrix and how it effected them. I suspect that... in the same way Vector Sigma can give Cybertronians life, write a personality, thoughts, skills, memories and abilites... the Matrix can read the same."

"It can tell, even better than anything else... everything about me. Maybe it knows I'm trying to keep it safe. It might not think I'm Prime material, but... it's helping me. Giving me what I need. Not what I want." Punch taps his chestplate lightly, "If that's the case little one, all help's greatly appreciated."

Punch's smile gains a little warmth and he cups his hand before saying conspiritorially to Arcee, "I don't think it's got my sense of humor yet though. Or agrees with my more risky flying and driving. I can feel the criticism."

"Maybe you ARE about to become the next Prime, Punch," Arcee says with amazed reverence, as she suddenly realizes she has an armload of scrap metal. She walks over to the transport and flings the scrap metal inside, then she walks back toward Punch. "I'm serious about that, by the way. The only Primes I ever knew personally were Optimus and Rodimus. Magnus held onto the Matrix at times in the past, but he /never/ reported it giving him wisdom or anything of the sort. I think maybe it's taking you under consideration."

Punch, almost always ready for any situation, always ready with a quick witted reply, opens and closes his mouth a few times. He'll notice later he's not actually using his vocaliser for making noises. He then coughs, "It... you think?" There we go. "I mean, that's... it'd be..." Making sense is different to making words.

Punch blinks a few times and, on reflex, slights a cig. Letting it self light he slights another with his free hand and offers it to Arcee, "I'm not sure what to say to that." Punch finally admits. After taking a deep draw on his cig, then another for good measure he says, "Really? Wow." He's gone again.

Arcee is near the east wall of the partially-rebuilt and restored Retoris. There's still debris left from when the Decepticons utterly demolished the city, but slowly it's in the process of being restored. Arcee's chosen to come out here and clean up some of the scrap not only as a labor of love, but to gather up the still-useful scrap metal to return to

...Iacon's smelter. With her is Punch, and they're working together to gather up bundles of scrap metal and toss them into the back of an old light-duty transport, a/k/a, Cybertronian dumptruck.

"Well, that's just my thoughts on the matter," Arcee tells Punch. "Your take may actually be spot on. But of all the primes I've known, they all heard that talking. No one else heard it. Not even Magnus, and he carried it for a while. Just saying."

Something stirs among that scrap, and at first glance it might even appear it was just more of the same. Flashes of singed and bent brown metal, interspersed with patches of purple and the occassional glint of dark gray or black. Yes, it could pass as just more scrap- but it's starting to move. Arcee and Punch may detect a lifesign beginning to grow stronger nearby.

At the first twitch of movement Punch snaps into the moment. He turns to Arcee and nods to the direction he seen it in. Using hand signals he indicates there's a possible disturbance, that the pair should approach with caution and to flank the possible contact. Although never built for stealth Punch takes another draw of his cig and discards it moving as unobtrusively as he can towards... whatever it is.

Arcee doesn't notice the movement at first, but she sees Punch suddenly become alert, and she frowns, pulling one of her laser-pistols from subspace as a precautionary measure. She follows Punch toward what appears to be the next scrap pile they should root through, and when she sees some movements quivering through it, she lurks cautiously toward the side opposite Punch, and begins very carefully pulling pieces of scrap off the pile, one at a time.

"Uuugggh..." Something- or someONE, finally groans as a black hand pushes through the scrap and starts to scrabble for freedom. A form emerges: it is definitely Cybertronian. Dark metal, shadowy, a faint purple glow eminating from within. The optics, when they finally come online, flickering and still unfocused, are also purple. So too is the badge. The Combaticon Blast Off pushes his way out of the rubble with a *hufff*, still seemingly unaware of his surroundings- or company.

Punch smiles, supressing a chuckle, and waves Arcee to stand down. He nods and approaches the disorientated shuttleformer, taking care not to make contact and haul him up as, well, Blast Off dosn't appreciate physical contact. You don't need to be a spy to know that. "Sleeping on the job Blast Off? How very unlike you. Most unprofessional."

Punch clicks his fingers a few times, watching the reaction, and Blast Off's awareness, carefully. "You're in luck today. Despite being in a heavily fortified stronghold, not to mention outnumbered... there's currently a lack of information around here. So, if you can hear me clearly and you understand fully... please say with your usual eloquence and we can talk about a little deal."

Arcee backs up a step in surprise as Blast Off suddenly emerges from the scrap. She puts her weapon away for now, but is reluctant in doing so, as she knows exactly how /she/ felt awakening from that deep slumber -- confused, terrified, disoriented -- and there's no guarantee that Blast Off will be in any state of mind to cooperate. But since Punch is trying to get a cognitive response from the shuttleformer, she just stands by silently, in case things go very wrong. Many things here could go very, very wrong. But Punch has a gift with words.

Blast Off is confused and disoriented- but he's also a Combaticon. Sluggish processes register the voice and begin to focus in on location- not only of Punch but the fact that he's in enemy territory. The sniper's ionic blaster is out of subspace and in his hand before he can even focus on Punch with his still flickering optics. His frame is tense, battered. He's in pain, it's dawning on him that he's in enemy territory, and... and why can't he remember a thing? He points the weapon more or less towards Punch as his vocoder kicks back online. Staticy at first, but growing stronger. "W-hat trickery *i*is this? I am a Comb*bat*icon. I don't know how you got me here, but you shall not keep me here without a fight!"

 Arcee says, "Careful, Punch."

Punch speaks a little more quietly, so much so that one would have to strain to hear him, "I can explain. I'm unarmed. It wouldn't exactly be sporting to shoot an unarmed opponent now... would it? You've a little more class than that." Punch takes care to be still, not moving a step in any direction. However he does stand at his full height, calm, cool and relaxed as he continues, "Now I know you wouldn't be planning to use that. Put it away. Well talk and even let you get safely home."

Punch's voice suddenly raises to it's normal volume and projection as he finishes, "However, you pull that trigger, or even so much as think of doing the same, I'll force feed you your own ionic blaster. Things are not what they seem right now. So... only warning. Stand down." His last statement was a command, carrying all the weight that many others before him would have been proud of.

 Punch says, "It's okay, just cover my six in case I'm wrong."

 Arcee says, "Understood."

Arcee remains stock-still for the moment, because she doesn't want to do anything that would be seen as menacing or threatening to Blast Off. Even so, her servos are wound tightly to immediately spring into action should Blast Off strike out at either of them. She knows that outside of the sky, Blast Off's a bit of a pushover.

The Combaticon's brown helmeted head starts leaning in as Punch nearly whispers, audial systems just now coming online having to strain to hear each word. Millenia of warlike training conflict with the more civilized side, beset with the fact that he is becoming aware that Punch and Arcee are there, they aren't making aggressive moves, he's in bad shape, alone, and he can't pick up any nearby decepticon signals. And unfortunately, Arcee is right- while in the air he's a definite threat, injured, outnumbered, and in close combat he's at a distinct disadvantage. Pride is the final card to play of the deck, and Blast Off struggles between desire for survival and desire to save face.

As Punch roars at him, the Combaticon's optics flicker again, dim and nearly offline, and he flinches briefly back. This causes a wince of pain, which sends the shuttleformer hunching down with a hiss. His gun holds for a moment longer.... and then slowly begins to lower. He doesn't subspace it but holds it hanging to his side, other arm clutching his side, and gazing at the two Autobots with a wary expression. "Well... no, of course I wouldn't be so...uncouth as to take advantage of an obviously outclassed opponent. I *am* a gentlemech, after all."

 Punch says, "See? I wasn't worried for a microsecond."

 Arcee says, "..."

 Smokescreen says, "what?"

 Arcee says, "We've made a discovery. Will tell you more not-on-this-channel because security."

 Smokescreen says, "Nice"

Still looking relaxed and calm Punch's feelings can catch up to his persona's portrayal. Punch looks Blast Off over. He's no medic but years of seeing battlefield injuries can tell a lot about a wound. For someone in intelligence any information is useful. Punch slowly puts his hand out and, with a flash of subspace, produces a small bottle.

He offers it to Blast Off, "It isn't a fine vintage but in kills pain, makes your self repair work triple time and will leave a warm fuzzy feeling in your circuits." Punch looks to Arcee, "Ask away, after all our guest's graciously decided they'd like to chat." Punch isn't taking the lead here. Always a good idea, when questioning, to keep the target off balance.

"Blast Off...are you able to remember what you were doing before you offlined?" Arcee finally speaks up softly, relaxing when it appears that the initial tension is abating somewhat.

Blast Off stares at that bottle, again torn- this time between really wanting a drink, Primus a drink would be nice about now, and fear the drink may have been tampered with. His thought processes are still very slow, though. He keeps trying to reboot but there are massive chunks of time missing. A few recent memories but so much is gone. He starts running internal chronometer readings to try to make sense of what he can. If he were more coherant, if anything made more sense to him, he might refuse the bottle. But right now? Right now, why the slag not. A scuffed black hand reaches out- hesitant at first- to take the bottle. At least it's unopened and unlikely to be tampered with.

He uses the other hand to open it, then bring it closer for a whiff. It smells good, too. He looks back to Punch and then Arcee. "Why? Is this an interrogation?" His cultured voice drips with distrust- and the fogginess of confusion.

Punch shakes his head and laughs, "It may surprise you but I don't tend to serve drinks if I were in need of answers that way. What you know could help with a situation. Something that has affected Autobot and Decepticon alike on an unprecidented scale." Punch pauses then says, "The details are sketchy. Hence why what you last remember is important. Please." Punch says that last word softly, "I know you well enough that you don't blindly stumble around. You deal with situations on their own merit. Answer the question." Punch looks to Arcee and adds, "Anything to add there?" Small steps forward.

Arcee looks at Punch, then turns back toward Blast Off. "I know you don't have much trust in us or our motives, but I think if you leave for a while and...take a look around for yourself, you'll see the scope of the problem. Almost everyone has...well, they're gone. They've vanished without a trace."

Blast Off stands there amongst the rubble, both physical and the tatters of what little he can remember, and listens to the two Autobots. he doesn't trust them, no. Violet optics peer sharply at them, searching for answers in their expression, tones, anything. A shame he's not very good at reading this whole *being social* business, but he can't detect deception from them. Plus Punch is right- he IS deep in enemy territory, isn't he? He can't remember how he got here and if the Autobots wanted him a helpless prisoner he'd be hard pressed to fight back. He sends scans out and there aren't many lifesign readings that come back. Something really IS odd here.

His fist clenches, frame tenses...and then he sighs. "No, I don't trust you. I have no reason to." His spare hand comes to point a finger in warning, "Mind you I don't care what you say, my teammates are nearby." They have to be. "Try to take me prisoner and you'll have /all/ of us to deal with." Another sigh, and he takes a swig from the bottle. "That said... I suppose..." he looks around again, "It's oddly... empty here." His gaze returns to the bots. "Last I remember, I was on Earth."

Punch remains silent. There's a time to talk and a time to listen in intelligence gathering. Since Blast Off's starting to do one... Punch will do the other. He looks to Arcee and nods slightly in respect to the superior operative's efforts. After all, Blast Off only seemd to start talking after Arcee explained the full scope of the situation.

Arcee's expression is one of mild sadness. She doesn't even like bringing this up, but even the Combaticon has to understand the situation as it stands. "There are still a few Decepticons. We had a brief truce with them, and it's currently off. I would like for it to be on again. We need cooperation to get through this. There are some /hints/ that have cropped up with the return of some mechs, that point in the direction of some mass event. Possibly a mass abduction. I understand this is a lot to think about right now. I'm not sure where the Decepticons are at the moment, but I'll tell you of the ones I know for sure returned, because I saw them when the truce was called." She pauses for a moment, deciding to play this particular card in the bid to get Blast Off to cooperate further. "Shockwave is in command. I saw Dirge, Avarice, Brigand. And now, you. There may be more that have returned since that time, but...those are the ones I know are confirmed returned and not missing in action."

Blast Off listens to this, his expression that of one hearing what he does not like but considering the possibility that it might-MIGHT- be the truth, or some approximation of it. Things add up. Though as Arcee lists the other decepticons and does NOT include his fellow Combaticons among them, the shuttleformer starts shaking his head and takes a step back. "No. No... They are somewhere around here, I am sure of." His head keeps slowly shaking- and then stops. Customary defensicveness kicks in. "Well, I mean, not that I wouldn't mind a little peace and quiet. They're rather annoying much of the time anyway." He takes a look at the bottle, then takes a deep, long drought of it. Yes. More. He takes another swig.

The bottle dropping to his side, he brings a hand up to scratch at the front of his helmet. "Well, if Shockwave is in command, then at least there should be some order, right?" His hand drops down, faceplate obscuring his frown. "I was on that mudball, that Earth you Autobots are so fond of. I..." He looks down at his hands, his arms. "I was with them... we were Bruticus. And then... we weren't. My circuits didn't disconnect normally... we were forcibly demerged."

As Punch listens he stops smiling. He knows anything powerful enough to disengage a gestalt, especially since gestalts don't disengage unless they want to is concerning. Other things concern Punch too but, until he's got the opportunity to do something about them, he'll have to wait until later. Still silent he looks over to Arcee then back to Blast Off. He asks, "Did you see what hit you and the others?" Okay, a bit pointless without any of the holos of the things turned up in the investigation so far but, having a datapad to hand means he could've been been doing paperwork. So, he stands by his choice.

Arcee is reluctant to press Blast Off too much, because there's nothing stopping him from simply leaving. He's damaged, but not too damaged to leave under his own power. She looks back toward Punch with a concerned expression, then glances back toward Blast Off. "If the details seem kind of fuzzy, some of them do seem to return over time. So anything you recall might help us get all of the others back."

Blast Off bumps up against a piece of slag jutting up near him from that pile and starts leaning against it a little. He still hurts all over and he's tired, though he also still attempts to appear more fit than he feels. That doesn't stop him from taking another swallow. Punch was right, it DOES make him feel a little better. It also seems to make him more talkative.

"No," he huffs, "I don't remember anything recently. Just... damage from something and an ache from my secondary energy systems that points to forceful demerging. While I was on that mudball planet. According to my chronometer, it was...three months ago. Then I woke up here. I may have wandered...I..." He pauses as he runs through internal diagnostics. "Out in the wastes? I wandered and I wound up... here." He takes the last swallow of the engex, shaking the last few drops through the hatch on his faceplate that allows him to drink and remain masked. With a sigh, he lets the empty bottle fall to his side. "That's all I know. There's a large chunk of time missing."

Punch tries to take in what he's heard. That's the problem with puzzles. You get all these disparate pieces and you don't even know if they're from the same puzzle, never mind where they go. Or even if it is a puzzle or a story or a tall tale. Not until you have time to play around and see the different ways that things could fit.

"Come on. Get into the truck, we'll drop you off near to your fellow Decepticons." Punch says to Blast Off, "Fair's fair." Looking to Arcee he says, "That's okay isn't it? If we give him a ride almost home? We can always finish the maintainance work later." Hopefully, by the time the transport run's been done... later will have came around soon enough.

Arcee nods. "If he's agreeable to it, sure," she answers Punch. Then she looks toward Blast Off. "Sorry we had to be the ones to break the bad news. But we're both in the same dire straits. What you're facing...is what we're facing, too." She points toward the transport. "Not a fancy ride home, but the offer stands."

"Please," Blast Off raises a hand with a mildly and very familiar haughty expression. "I can fly myself around, I need no help from *Autobots*..." His voice contains a hint of his customary disdainful tone. "I suppose I should thank you for the engex, however, it was at least somewhat refreshing." He gives them a polite, if stiff, formal nod of the head and starts turning around. Not so much so that his back is to them, he keeps them in view as best he can, but he begins to move off towards what he thinks is the exit.

Or at least that was the idea. Almost as soon as he starts walking through debris, scrap scatters and clanks to either side. There's a loud thud amongst it all and Blast Off stops to look down and see that one of his own wing elevons just fell right off the wing clamped to his leg. He just stands there and stares at it for a good long while. A good long while. Then there's a sigh. The Combaticon reaches down, grabs his elevon with a huff, and turns to face the Autobots again. "THEN AGAIN." Cough. "I do suppose the proper, gentlemechly thing to do would be to allow you the honor of my escort. Just so that we part on proper terms. I'll even allow you to see that I am, in fact, returning back to base and not remaining here. Only proper."