[open] starve the ego, feed the soul

[auramatic]

Who| Drift and YOU!
What| Meet the new 20 foot tall shape-changing robot in town. He's pretty friendly.
Where| All around Legion World, Drift's biome, the training gym
Warnings/Notes| n/a

This is all...a lot. The last thing Drift remembers before waking up here was being in his shuttle, far, far away from the ship he'd been exiled from. Voluntarily exiled, because no one else could have taken the fall -- it had to be him. For everyone else's sake. And so he'd been alone, stripped of his Autobrand and adrift in the stars, looking for...something.

And now he's here, and he's wondering if this was what he was looking for. He took the oath almost immediately, because being asked to help save not just a world, but every world? Primus must have sent him here for a reason -- this reason -- why else would he be here? This must be some sort of chance at redemption, right? He doesn't really know if he deserves it, but hey, he's not going to argue against the will of a creator god. He just...has to have faith.

a. wandering around
Drift hasn't been around this many organics in...a while, not since he was last on Earth. It's kind of wild to think he's jumped a thousand years into the future. Humans seem to be doing pretty alright these days. He had forgotten how weird it was to be this much bigger than most people around him, though. At least he's got his swords. All three of them. It is a comfort.

He's milling around Legion World once he's settled in enough, getting his bearings. It's massive here, and there's a lot to see -- and where the space is wide enough, he'll be driving instead of walking. He hasn't had a chance to stretch his t-cog and drive around in his alt mode for a while, but despite the flashy sports car appearance, he is moving at a reasonably polite speed.

b. biome
Drift's biome is a little slice of Cybertron. It might not look very hospitable to organics -- it's cyberformed rather than terraformed, ideal for a race of sentient alien robots, but while the vast plains and jagged hills might look barren and cold to humans, it's basically the heart of nature for Drift. His biome is mostly untamed, open wilderness, though there's a building he's made a home for himself, complete with a designated meditation space in the style of Spectralism (read: very New Age-y). He's happy to greet anyone coming by, but if he's keeping to himself, it's almost definitely because he's meditating. Or trying, anyway.

c. training gym
It has not occurred to Drift that it might not be very polite to practice with swords in the gym considering how much space a 20 foot tall robot takes up, but he has at least placed him as far in a corner away from other fellow gym-goers so as not to get in their way. He could be doing sword kata back in his biome, sure, but he's spent...a lot of time alone in the last few months. Being around other people, even total strangers, is preferable background noise to the deafening silence of solitude.

He is pretty absorbed in his robot kata, though, going through the motions with a sword in each hand, though he'll stop to chat if anyone catches his attention. He has a third sword strapped to his back, apparently not currently in use, and if you are wondering if this guy really needs to be carrying three swords at all times: yes. Yes, he does.

d. wildcard!
[ feel free to hit me up at runawayballista to plot things! ]

Comments

C

[thebioticwoman]

Initially, Shepard tries to turn him off, poking at the control console at the edge of the area he's using and frowning as nothing happens. Don't leave your weirdo giant robot sparring routines running, jeez.

When Drift fails to poof into non-existence the way the holographic training dummies usually do, she takes a second look and realizes he's less translucent than the gym holograms are generally supposed to be. He looks more like a sim room construct, and she's pretty sure those don't break loose and run rampant across Legion World, at least not unless Brainiac messes up a software update.

Logical conclusion: he's an actual real giant robot with actual real giant robot swords, because that's life in the Legion for you.

She waits politely for him to finish his form before interrupting. "You wouldn't happen to know a guy named Prowl, would you?" Because all giant space robots have to know each other, right?

thanks shep

[auramatic]

What a great opening line, Shepard.

Drift notices her in his periphery, but it isn't until she speaks that he directs his attention to her, glancing down as he sheaths his swords. He's still getting used to having to look down all the time. His optics flicker as he furrows his robot not-brow.

"Uh," he says, genuinely thrown by that line of inquiry, "I do, actually. I'm guessing you do, too?"

Is he...not the only Cybertronian here? Drift contemplates whether or not it'd be preferable to be alone, after months of solitude, or here with Prowl.

No, alone. He's good alone.

yw drift

[thebioticwoman]

Huh. She had kinda not been expecting a yes on that one, to be perfectly honest.

"Yeah, he was here a while back." Shepard leans against the console, folding her arms. "I didn't get to talk to him much, but he seemed nice enough."

She is entirely unaware that's not a descriptor anyone would have attached to Prowl in four million years...or has the best poker face anywhere in the galaxy.

[auramatic]

Drift just stares at her for a moment.

"Nice," he repeats, and sincerely wonders if they're talking about the same Prowl. It's possible they aren't. After all, there'd been that Prowl who'd changed his name to Dent for -- well, what were probably pretty obvious reasons. But that Prowl had died at Delphi before Drift and the others had even gotten there. "Right. What does he look like? And -- is he not here anymore?"

C

[rushing_by]

There's a flash of lightning over by the treadmills. Usually Barry trains in the Speed Lab down in his Hab section, but occasionally, like today, he switches it up a bit. The red-clad speedster's legs are a blur of after-images, and anyone taking a quick glance at the treadmill's speedometer will see the truly insane pace he's running at. Person or vehicle, there's very little that travels on the ground that can hope to outrun him.

yasss

[auramatic]

Drift doesn't really notice the blurry-legged human on the treadmill until he's finished his kata and vents out a sigh of release as he sheathes his swords. He's willing to go with the flow with all this, but sometimes doing something familiar is a little grounding. But it's very hard not to notice Barry, because for all he's seen humans do around here, he's never seen any of them do that.

He watches in mostly-unmasked interest for a minute or two before actually approaching Barry, which admittedly only takes a few steps. Look at this human go. He's never seen anything move that fast, except Blurr, and even Drift isn't sure just how fast that bot can go. He's at least spent enough time on Earth for "miles per hour" to mean something to him, and...damn.

"Can I ask you something?" It's a pretty friendly interruption as far as people who strike up unsolicited conversations at the gym go. Drift likes to think that he's able to mediate his aura to make himself less intimidating to humans and smaller organics. Smiling helps. "How difficult is it for you to move that fast? Sorry, I don't mean to interrupt -- I've just never seen a human run that fast."

Re: yasss

[rushing_by]

"Not very? I can go faster than this. This is mostly an endurance run, not a speed test." He says, not pausing in his movement. He's not thrown by Drift's appearance, he'd met Prowl before.

"And you wouldn't have. I'm not one of a kind, but speedsters like me are still pretty rare."

[auramatic]

"You can go faster?" Drift looks suitably impressed, considering...well, humans he met in his own world were pretty ineffectual and squishy. He'd pay to see this human race Blurr, although on second thought no one would actually be able to see it.

"That must be a very special gift, then. Is it, er..." He pauses a moment in thought, realizing he doesn't actually have much of an idea of how humans are made. "Is it something you've always had?"

Nailed it.

A, I'm assuming Drift won't run him over.

[walkingballpit]

Despite the easy availability of flight thanks to the Legion-issued ring or the ever-increasing speed of his bouncing ability, Robbie generally walks through the corridors. It’s good to get exercise, when so much of life here is automated. He keeps an eye out for fliers, though, because there are enough people who opt for a faster mode of travel to make it smart to keep his head up.

A car is not something that he expects to see when he steps into the intersection of two corridors, mere feet in front of the vehicle. It’s too far away for the traditional New York exchange – a quick slap of the hood and a shout of 'hey! I’m walking here!' Besides, he consoles himself, it’s unlikely that the unseen driver would appreciate the reference.

Instead, Robbie tips his head to the side and points an index finger at each front wheel. “I’m not even going to ask why you’re driving down the corridor, but where did you get the wheels?

thankfully he likes humans more than some other robots

[auramatic]

Every empty stretch of corridor Drift can roll through is like one good, long stretch, but he doesn't get the sense that accidentally squashing organics in his first week here would endear him to his new teammates, so he's being generally careful. He sees Robbie just far enough from a distance that he comes to a neat halt with a squeak of his tires.

He transforms in response, the panels and wheels shifting into a more humanoid form as he jumps into the air, landing crouched and fully transformed in front of Robbie with a totally unnecessary backflip. His optics are bright with a smile, and for a guy with three swords strapped to him, he's got an awfully cheerful vibe. Where were those swords while he was a car? Where indeed.

"Actually, I am the wheels." Rather than stretching to his fault, Drift stays crouched with his elbows resting on his knees. It seems more polite. "I'm kind of a new arrival. The name's Drift."

[walkingballpit]

The unnecessary backflip is probably the least surprising thing about Drift, all things considered.

A car that started to change into something else - that wasn't so odd in and of itself, but then there was a humanoid shape to it. And swords. Three swords, in fact, which seemed more frivolous than the backflip, given that the android... car... Drift only has two arms. Robbie counted.

He also hasn't missed the relative size difference. Drift, despite being crouched, is not shorter than Robbie. That's alarming. "You... are the wheels. Right."

Forgive him for leaning to the side to see if Drift has a spare tire for a butt. It's just one of those things he has to know, and be grateful that he is suppressing about half a dozen inappropriate responses. Thank god for classes on Roboticans getting most of it out of his system. "I'm Robbie. I'd offer to shake your hand, but I like mine not squished flat... seriously, Drift as in Tokyo Drift? It's a little on the nose."

[auramatic]

No spare tire, Robbie, just a perfectly ordinary Cybertronian butt.

Drift raises a robot not-eyebrow at him. "Hey, I had the name millions of years before I ever went to Japan -- or even heard of Earth, for that matter." He waves his hand in a don't worry about it gesture. "I'd like to think I have a little better fine motor control than that, but then again, humans are usually, er...pretty squishy."

B

[whyarewehere]

Grif is exercising. Sort of. He guesses. It's still a battle to admit that's what he's doing, and that it's maybe not the worst thing in the world if someone sees him at it. Running laps through the hab deck can totally be something else, right?

He's so wrapped up in this that it takes him a little to notice this section is both A) new and B) weird as hell.

The orange blur shooting across the hills of Cybertron backs up, then stops.

"Huh."

[auramatic]

Drift was given to understand from Barry that speedsters are pretty rare. And yet now there is an orange blur zipping all over his biome (an admittedly pretty comfortable slice of home, since he hasn't seen Cybertron in...months, and he wasn't about to head back that way after his exile) and when he stops, it is pretty apparent that he is not Barry.

He's cruising around in his alt mode when Grif crosses into cyberformed territory, because while it had been nice driving around the halls, out here he can really give his wheels a spin. It's been a while since he really got to use his alt mode. He makes for a pretty flashy sports car, too, heading for Grif and coming to a squealing and sort of showoffy halt nearby. And then, after a moment's consideration, he transforms back to root mode with a rearrangement of parts and plating and at least one completely unnecessary backflip. And then there is a 20 foot tall robot with three -- that's right, count 'em, three -- swords strapped to him standing next to Grif with an inquiring look. Despite being a giant robot with a lot of swords, he seems...friendly.

"What, you've never seen a cyberformed planet before?"

It's a light jab. He knows you haven't, Grif.

[whyarewehere]

Grif is, perhaps understandably, a bit taken aback about being approached by a huge robot guy who is also a car.

"Ohhh my god," he says. "I thought we were done with having a robot apocalypse."

Okay, so he doesn't actually look like any of the robozombies (he's way too big), but Grif has to let that sentiment out.

[auramatic]

Drift frowns slightly, looks down at himself, glances around, and then looks back at Grif.

"Does one robot really count as an apocalypse?"

A. ...a million years later.

[lovernotafighter]

​​Tucker had seen a lot since he arrived: aliens (which was pretty par for the course for him), superheroes, weird powers, Chosen One without Chosen Features. He thought that by this point, he was way beyond being surprise by anything that walked by; there was absolutely no way that they could throw something at him that would leave him standing there with his mouth hanging open, his eyes wide, questioning his own sanity.

But, who knew that a twenty-foot robot could change that.

A twenty-foot shape-shifting robot could change a lot of things.

...His swords were big, which made them kinda awesome by default.

Really, Tucker had just been on his way to the mess before, well, running into that. Since Carolina had left, he had been spending time by himself, just bullshitting and hanging out lowkey. Maybe that seclusion was his first mistake.

"What the fuck have I been missing?" Because it was clearly badass, or totally acid-like at this point.

[auramatic]

Drift hears the voice, realizes the human is probably talking to him, and glances down to see one of them boggling up at him. It's probably a good thing that Drift, unlike some of his erstwhile comrades, has actually been to Earth before. He just waves down at Tucker with an amiable smile. This guy seems way chiller than someone who carries no less than three swords at all times should be.

"Not much, I think. I only just got here recently." Drift crouches so that he's at least a little closer (ish) to eye level with Tucker and holds out a giant robot hand. Humans shake hands, right? He promises not to crush yours, Tucker. "I'm Drift. Newest member of the team, as far as I'm aware."

[lovernotafighter]

Okay, wait. Drift (was that this robot's real name?) wanted Tucker to shake that giant hand and not get it crushed? Yeah, yeah, fuck that, not happening.

So, Tucker smacked it in a high-five instead. Totally legit and fine, right? Not rude at all. And it sounded...so weirdly small, which was embarrassing in itself.

Not focusing on that. Just think of him as a nicer Freckles.

"Tucker. Or Chick Magnet to the screaming masses." He smiled, all bright and shining. "Um, so, are you a guy in that metal suit or what?"

A

[truefaceofthelaw]

Even exposed to the Roboticans and other such mechanical-based lifeforms in this universe, when Rico sees a car driving around Legion World with nobody in it, breaking traffic laws like it's nobody's business, he's going to assume it's an on-board AI with an irresponsible owner.

Rico approaches, scribbling something off on a slip of paper as he does so. He hammers at the window to get its attention, slapping the paper onto it and swiping his hand over the adhesive.

"AI! Return to your primary residence at once," he barks, somewhat indifferent to his duty. "And inform your spugwit owner that they've received a traffic citation."

amazing

[auramatic]

Traffic citation? Drift thought he'd been going at a pretty polite speed -- he's really not interested in accidentally running anyone over, but maybe he shouldn't be driving around Legion World's corridors at all. Whoops.

He comes to a quick halt when Rico approaches, although admittedly, he's a little annoyed at the banging on his window. It doesn't hurt, but Drift feels like it's an unnecessary application of force for a...God, for a traffic citation.

With a little sigh of air through his vents, Drift transforms back to root mode, landing in a crouch next to Rico. He plucks off the traffic citation, stuck on one of the doors attached to his shoulders, and peers at the very tiny piece of paper with a slight frown.

"Not an AI, and -- what did I do, exactly?"

[truefaceofthelaw]

"I'll call you what I drokking well want to." Rico replies, disdain and amusement in his voice. His gaze tilts up, seemingly unbothered. "But since you asked -- driving in a walking zone, causing obstruction, public disturbance, and multiple breaches of health and safety regulations." he rattles off, folding his arms. The public disturbance charge is admittedly maybe a little shaky, but Rico ploughs on regardless.

"And you'd better hope that vanity old-fashioned roadster shell of yours doesn't emit any of the four hundred and fifty five banned pollutants in the UP. That a good enough explanation for you, droid, or should I break it down into smaller words?"

C, not long after the Walmart Fiasco

[unrecovered]

[Not long after this thread.]

It's been a rough...couple of days. Week. Whatever the fuck it's been. Dimension hopping had played hell with Wash's sense of time; getting zapped into unconsciousness by megalomaniacal television directors every few hours sure hadn't helped. At least they were back on Legion World now, which is as close to home and safe as he's managed in the past couple years.

Unfortunately, home and safe haven't equated to okay. Dipper is traumatized to hell and back. Wash certainly didn't make any friends with his pragmatism in that other dimension. And no matter where he looks, he can't find Pidge...

And he's not in the headspace to process any of that right now. Dipper is in the hands of medical and psychological professionals right now, and Pidge is away on mission until activity logs say otherwise, and he is not ready to face those just yet. Instead, he'd put DC on his shoulder, because the kitten was due some adventure time and he'd wanted a comforting presence, and headed down to the shopping area to try to relax for a while. He couldn't get too deep into his own head with that many people around, and having conversations about how cute his shoulder kitten was tended to do wonders for his self-esteem.

So, of course, he arrives just in time for two giant sentient robots to have what looks like the world's worst family reunion. He'd had time to peruse Drift's file before he'd left, but the other one - Megatron, from the sound of it - sounds like trouble, to put it lightly.

Honestly, it's having DC perched on his shoulder, purring in spite of the gigantic argument going on in front of them, that keeps him from intervening. He can handle himself just fine if push comes to shove, but he's not putting his kitten in harm's way.

And then America of all people gets involved, and, well, fuck all of that. He at least stays to watch the argument fizzle in the face of The Self-Appointed Law before shrugging (at which DC squeaks in protest - hey, he's sitting here!) and walking away.

It's an hour later when he heads to the gym on the training deck. He'd dropped DC off in his room, taken some time to play with the kitten, and finally checked the records. Pidge was gone. Pidge had gone home, and he'd needed to hit something right fucking then, so here he is, methodically working over the punching bag. It's not going to help him in the long run, but the long run isn't going to matter if he can't get through the now.

He follows through on one particularly hard right cross and stops to breathe, catching the bag as it swings back. It's only then that he bothers to take a look around and notices Drift, also in the gym, possibly working through bullshit in the same way Wash is. "Hey," he says before he can stop himself - this is probably a terrible idea, but he'll take anything to get his mind off his own problems. "I have to know - is that other guy really your ex?"

OH BOY

[auramatic]

As a general rule, Drift tries to go with the flow of things. There's a grand design to the universe, one that most of them just aren't far enough away to see, but Drift has faith. Faith that is, admittedly, currently being tested by the appearance of Megatron, of all people. Drift has to assume that Megatron showing up here is part of that grand design, though being dragged into a truly embarrassing public confrontation -- in which Megatron had called him Deadlock, in front of all those people -- is obscuring his vision a bit. The public and private halves of that conversation had been equally harrowing. Megatron's known him too long, knows how to get under his plating, and Drift can just feel the negative energy generated from that confrontation clogging up his aura, bringing him badly off center. Normally, he'd do something meditative like kata or, well, actual meditation, but right now...right now he just really needs to hit stuff.

Luckily, there's stuff to hit in the gym that can withstand a bit of a beating from a Cybertronian. And a few hours of it does help. Some tension just needs to be worked out physically, and Drift doesn't exactly have a sparring partner here. But at this point, he's not just working off the tension, he's actively avoiding going back to his biome, because Megatron is far too close to home. He isn't really ready to deal with the Decepticon again just yet.

He's just stepping back to cool off for a bit when Wash decides to strike up a conversation with what is a top contender for worst opening line to Drift ever along with Shepard's. But Shepard didn't manage to land on a topic this deeply personal, or one this sore. Drift just stares at Wash for a moment, and then, instead of lying, cheerfully ignoring the question, or even telling the truth, he just says, "Is there a reason humans start conversations with personal questions in gyms or is there some kind of cultural thing I'm missing?"

[unrecovered]

Oh yeah, he'd really picked a winner there. Still, Wash is committed, and he'd rather have this conversation than pay attention to the more depressing thoughts bouncing off the inside of his skull. "Nah, we're just a bunch of assholes focusing on other people's problems so we don't have to deal with our own." He punctuates the answer with a shrug. It's dark enough to be the truth and blithe enough to make it seem like that's not at all the case. Dealer's choice.

"Honestly, I'm just trying to figure out if America actually picked up on something or if she's just as full of shit as she usually is." Which isn't exactly the truth, but he'd love to know regardless, if only for his own mental tally.