legionworld | [open] starve the ego, feed the soul

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[open] starve the ego, feed the soul

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! ]

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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?

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.

Edited 2017-11-09 17:46 (UTC)

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.

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?"

"Yeah, he disappeared. Sometimes it happens, but no one's gotten a straight answer about why from the Time Trapper. Or any answer, actually." She shrugs. Shepard is not a woman who inquires deeply into the mysteries of reality when there are omnicidal abominations to be fought.

"He was about your height, white and black...paint job?" Her voice rises slightly in an implicit question about terminology, since she doesn't know if that's what you call a giant robot's color scheme. "He turned into a ground car--neat trick, by the way."

Alright, Drift is just a little bit relieved that Prowl isn't here. The loneliness of being the only one of your kind around isn't great, but you know? Better than Prowl. If Drift holds anyone other than himself accountable for what happened with Overlord, it's Prowl.

"Sounds about right." So...let's talk about something other than Prowl. Drift's optics brighten slightly with a smile. "My alt mode's a car, too. It's pretty common among Cybertronians."

He crouches down a little, because it seems like the courteous thing to do, although Drift doesn't really remember how humans usually greet each other.

"My name is Drift."

Handshakes, but that's a bit impractical even with the stooping, so Shepard doesn't offer. She does straighten back up to a more formal posture, less for the extra few centimeters than the courtesy factor. Man, this must be what volus feel like constantly.

"Shepard. Sentinel if you're looking me up on the team roster." No relation to a certain crappy Prime, probably. "Welcome aboard, Drift."

Drift would have to be an unusually suspicious soul to doubt that he is indeed welcome, because Shepard firmly believes it, and also firmly believes her word is law even if she doesn't quite realize that what she believes. Technically she's not in command here, sure, but once learned, the habit of authority never entirely goes away.

Shepard does have a natural authority about her that registers with Drift -- the kind of authority you can rely on. Drift is warmed by the welcome, sincere as it is, and his smile brightens. After the last few months, it's nice to feel welcome anywhere, even in such an unfamiliar place as this.

"Thank you, Shepard. Pleased to meet you." Drift tips his head in greeting at her. "Are you a native of this world? Or were you brought here, too?"

Edited 2017-11-09 19:08 (UTC)

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.

"I'm a transplant," she replies, unconsciously reaching up to brush her fingers across the Legion logo on the breast of her shirt, where there would usually be an N7. "Most of the team is. Mostly human too, but there are a few other synthetics kicking around."

'Synthetic' isn't a pejorative when she says it. If Drift had met her earlier in her life it might have been, but this Shepard has served with machine intelligences on the hardest mission of her career, a mission that would not have succeeded without her inorganic crew members. They would lay down their lives for their crewmates as readily as any organic would, and for her part, Shepard no longer toes the Citadel party line about the inescapable dangers of AI and other synthetics.

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."

"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."

"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.

"You mean inorganics?" Drift says, one not-eyebrow lifted slightly. He isn't offended, at least not as much as some other bots (Rodimus) might be, but hey -- words are important. Names are important. "Cybertronians aren't exactly synthetic. But I'm guessing these others are?"

"No, no." Barry answers. "Trust me, my life would have gone a lot differently if this had been something I had since birth. No, this is the result of being hit by both lightning and a wave of dark matter caused by a particle accelerator exploding."

Barry stops running and turns off the treadmill. "I'm Barry, by the way. Barry Allen. Forensic scientist by day, superhero known as The Flash also by day. And night, and basically pretty much every other time in between."

Edited 2017-11-10 09:17 (UTC)

Drift blinks. "I'm no scientist, but the odds of something like that happening seem...very low."

But he crouches down to meet Barry at close enough to eye level as they can get and gives him a bright smile. "The Flash, huh? You know, I've got a friend I wish you could meet. You can call me Drift."

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?

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."

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."

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."

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."

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.

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.

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

"Does one robot really count as an apocalypse?"

"Sure, if that's what you go by," Shepard replies easily. She could get pedantic about those silicon-based people with all the branches and no carbon atoms she'd met doing publicity junkets, but she gets the feeling strict adherence to terminological accuracy is not the actual issue.

"There are some AIs and a robot about my size." Who she guesses is also technically an AI, but frankly this is more thought than she'd put into the subdivisions of machine sentients before. "If you don't mind me asking, what's the problem with 'synthetic?'"

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[open] starve the ego, feed the soul

C

thanks shep

yw drift

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yasss

Re: yasss

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

thankfully he likes humans more than some other robots

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B

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