keenepiphany

[keenepiphany]

::Commander:: Oh, how often had he spun the reports for Aureus in such a manner, ::you not into it, were focused on the task at hand. Rodimus, our objective, was all but confirmed to be in the next room. It was determination, not enthusiasm.::

Relax Drift, the sword is at your back.

Back in the office...

[keenepiphany]

::I am happy to help.:: Epiphany knows that Rodimus is in good hands with the field commander, ::Record accuracy is extremely important, commander; I will report things as they occurred, and I trust our Ultra Magnus will remain objective and pragmatic. The Magnus we faced was an active threat and obstacle to mission objectives, there were no reasonable alternatives to lethal force when encountered, and the confrontation ended when he turned his weapon on himself. Regardless of how the report is submitted, it is likely that is what he will ultimately gather.::

Back in the office...

[keenepiphany]

::I expect that Rodimus will not be returning to his duties until cleared, so I may be finding myself with little work. If you believe spending more time with the captain would benefit his recovery, I am requesting to take on your excessive paperwork and condense it to a single report for you to review- much as I did for Rodimus before.::

Back in the office...

In the aftermath of the assault on the Cog, most mechs are at movie night, enjoying some well deserved relaxation. Epiphany, on the other hand, is getting a head start on the mountain of paperwork; partially so he can update himself on the happenings since his absence, and partially so he can begin the summary for when Rodimus is fit to return to his duties. His after action report is already been submitted, and is awaiting review on Drift’s desk. He’s finished quickly when the realization sets in; all of his work surrounded Rodimus and his duties, and Rodimus presently has no duties, that means he has none. Ultra Magnus would likely continue Rodimus’ along with his own, and fully enjoy the increased workload, but Drift on the other hand…

::Commander,:: he he begins, ::I have a request.::

[keenepiphany]

Back in the office...

In the aftermath of the assault on the Cog, most mechs are at movie night, enjoying some well deserved relaxation. Epiphany, on the other hand, is getting a head start on the mountain of paperwork; partially so he can update himself on the happenings since his absence, and partially so he can begin the summary for when Rodimus is fit to return to his duties. His after action report is already been submitted, and is awaiting review on Drift’s desk. He’s finished quickly when the realization sets in; all of his work surrounded Rodimus and his duties, and Rodimus presently has no duties, that means he has none. Ultra Magnus would likely continue Rodimus’ along with his own, and fully enjoy the increased workload, but Drift on the other hand...

::Commander,:: he he begins, ::I have a request.::

[keenepiphany]

Epiphany nods when he receives the confirmation, both from Drift and from the system; he didn’t know what the proper response to a smile was in this situation, much less one so clearly plastered over so falsely. 

::I have not rendezvoused with any of ours since, and was unaware of the scouting team until this moment as I have lacked communications, but will make every effort to join them.::

Ring ring

[keenepiphany]

::Yes Sir, file to follow.:: a line on his visor brightens as he initiates the transfer.

Ring ring

[keenepiphany]

Yes, Rodimus was being hurt, and Epiphany would share the number one spot in the que with Drift to return that suffering on the perpetrators a hundred fold. 

And Epiphany did not want to remain, but he was given an order, and there was nothing he would have been able to do on his own. ::I have a file with a full report and notes on everything I have observed. I can transmit it to this frequency or another that you specify.::

Ring ring

[keenepiphany]

If it’s sterile, that’s because he’s been trained to report that way since his creation, and such formality is comforting when everything once stable seems to have fallen away. While he was certain Drift would have preferred to know exactly what had happened, the details of the authentication would support nothing. 

::If my understanding of the world is correct, yes. However, I would only say our immediate requirements of killing would be the council; blasphemers that desecrate The Hand by ignoring their gifts, and twisting primal scriptures to their desires. I believe they are the root, and the others will wilt in their absence.”Hesitation, “I do not know precisely where he is being kept now, we were separated at the landing site where I was mistaken as an ordinary weapon. Rodimus ordered me not to correct them, and to escape as to pass the information along to you. Along with the instruction to wield me.::

Ring ring

[keenepiphany]

Epiphany is in full misson mode, back straight, hands motionless by his side. He won’t show it, but he’s overwhelmingly glad to see anyone of The Lost Light, and Drift’s response is exactly what he wants to hear.

::Commander Drift; Rodimus, Perceptor, Tailgate, are in custody of the local government, ‘Functionalists’ they call themselves. I can confirm invasive and non-consentual medical examinations, and strong evidence for further practices. Trailcutter confirmed KIA. As for how many people we have to kill, I would say well over the majority of the planet is active, if not complicit, in the actions of this regime. However, there is a noteworthy resistance, I am contacting you from one of their base of operations, sir.::

Ring ring

[keenepiphany]

Ring ring

::Epiphnay, Telus of Rodimus, reporting in an unsecured line.:: Epiphany is standing on the console, looking slightly less for ware only on his finish and a bent audial blade. 

[keenepiphany]

Regardless of the level or organization- if they’re a full fledged militia hiding under Cybertron’s surface or a handful of disenfranchised mechs- Epiphany will make due. All he needs is that relay, and Ultra Magnus should swiftly make the important decisions. As for the small part of him that was hoping for a system he could learn, it withered a bit at Ravage’s reaction.

He tilts his head, “You could might where I am from.” Every mech owes it to every other to achieve the greatest he can, and if a tribemember of Onyx was inclined to subterfuge, then he would be placed in a special operations unit where he could excel; at least he would have been among the knights(Push that painful bit of nostalgia away, you’re a weapon, a warrior not a poet or an artist). Epiphany certainly did not like the tone, but he simply nodded. What he had to trade was a question that would nag him for now, but it could be answered when asked.

Epiphany follows Ravage’s gaze and looks back at the council building. hardening himself and swearing that he would return, and that when he did, he would be accompanied by a war party. He was brought back to the present circumstance with some circumventive wording, building up to asking his name. “I am Epiphany,” he with held the title, settling to add, “Weight on the downward strokes when written.” his tight frown wasn’t visible under the battle mask, but the furrowing of optic ridges might give the same effect, “And if” he refrained from the word desecrating, “violating mechs sparks and unethical executions falls under the category of ‘usual horrors’, then nothing unusual.”

Strange Encounters of the Small Kind

Are they an organized group or is it just a smattering of random connections–”I know a guy who knows a guy who knows the coworker of a guy who does that thing you need” kind of deal, the sort you’d find on any street anywhere? You decide, Epiphany. 

Ravage huffs a laugh. “Do I look like the kind of guy who has a commanding officer to you?” And it’s true. Soundwave might have decided to answer to Ring, but Ravage is with Soundwave and no one else. That’s about as far as he’s willing to go with his whole rebellion schtick. “Do what you want, but I’m going to introduce you to one of my friends, and they’re going to take you to the guy I was talking about and make sure you don’t get yourself in trouble on the way. You can work out a fair trade with him–he’s a bit of a bleeding spark, so you shouldn’t have trouble. I wouldn’t try and twist out of it, though. If he can’t get you that call, no one can.” 

He glances at the building. His job is to keep an eye on the place, and he can’t abandon it. Buzzsaw will take a little while to get here from Ring’s outpost, but until then he can keep this guy out of the mess and occupied. Out of the way paths for someone as small as him to an underground pipe leak he can wash off at, and somewhere to wait out Buzzsaw in relative safety that doesn’t compromise anything, and a tagalong shadow from a rat that owes Ravage a favor. But first–“So this isn’t really payment, I’m not going to play takeback or anything, but I think it’s fair to ask your name, right? And maybe if I have anything to worry about in the near future. You want to share anything about what’s going on in there beside the usual horrors?” 

[keenepiphany]

While Epiphany would have much preferred running, he knew his chances were next to none against someone like Ravage, and all his other options are even less favorable. He also resisted the urge to correct the waste shoot to an atmospheric filter system dump, even if it was the same thing.

While the paw is wiggled, Epiphany raises a single supra optic ridge. After it’s put down though, he’ll lift his own hand and wiggle his own fingers in response, haltingly at first, but then with more confidence, careful not to fling the substance on the other. Maybe this is a greeting that evolved on this particular version of Cybertron. In any event, he may as well try to learn as much as he can so as to form a more informational report.

“I likely will not need you to get me off world, my own faction is capable of providing transportation. Furthermore, I am not leaving yet; that ‘council’ has what’s left of my party, and I am not leaving without them,” one of them, more specifically, but he’s not going to divulge everything, “I have not been authorized to disclose any information, but I may be able to yet, or enable our respective commanding officers to communicate.” 

Did the Cybercat have a command structure or commanding officer? He had no idea, but he mentioned other people, and he can hope they are organized in some semblance of a chain of command. That would be a relief, if anything; order and structure and rank and rules, that is where he thrives. 

Strange Encounters of the Small Kind

Looks like the chase was definitely over for now, which was kind of disappointing, but that was life. Ravage had a job to do. Time to sell it. 

“Says the guy who came out of a refuse shoot. Look at me–” he waggled a paw, meaning creature, meaning beast, meaning obsolete, meaning dead– “I think it’s kind of obvious we might want the same things. You want to send your message, I want to know what’s going on before not knowing gets me killed. You look like someone who could help with that.

“Look, you clearly aren’t exactly in the Council’s good books right now; neither are a whole lot of people, and you running around drawing attention and stirring up trouble is something no one wants. Which is why I’m standing here, talking to a complete stranger covered in extremely obvious treasonous waste in an alley right outside the Council’s current stomping grounds instead of minding my own business like anyone with an actual functioning processor would. I can get you in contact with someone who can do more than get you your relay–they can get you off planet, you and anyone else who might need it. They know you weren’t alone. All you’d have to do is tell them what they need to know to make it happen and maybe not get dead in the process. Sound fair? Or should I let you loose to get yourself fried trying to get to the city’s own comm towers?” 

He’s thinking fast, but they have some sort of procedure for this sort of thing already, for potential friends or foes who need to be coaxed in and caught, and Ring gave Soundwave free reign. This might be the best chance they get. Disfavored Council agent or genuine victim, Ravage really can’t let this opportunity pass him by. 

He might not be able to get a good scent under all that filth, but his nose doesn’t usually lead him wrong, and right now it’s telling him there’s something important here. 

[keenepiphany]

Well, so much for charisma. The constant drip of fluids must have been more detrimental than he realized, no sign of yielding from Ravage at all. Desperation was an understatement, but he still needs to evaluate this option before he accepts it. 

“There is only one way that you might help me at this point. I need access to a communications relay that can reach orbit. And if you are so interested in helping, you might enlighten me as to why.”

Because the idea of a rebellion isn’t something that would occur to him. 

Strange Encounters of the Small Kind

The posturing makes Ravage cock his head, though he doesn’t relax in any other way, in case he tries to bolt again. “Yeah, okay.” Sure, be commanding and vaguely threatening. That totally wasn’t a coagulated bunch of fluid flopping to the ground with a sickening shift in air currents or anything. Ravage will let you have your dignity. “Clearly you’re pretty desperate. You’re not listening though. Going this way, you’re gonna get caught. Like to see you make your meeting then.” 

Going any way, this guy is going to get caught if he keeps making a spectacle of himself like this. Planet wide genocide. What a charmer. 

“But considering where you’re coming from, I think I can help.” 

[keenepiphany]

To his credit, it’s not entirely a lie; he has been ordered to regroup with The Lost Light, and for his purposes yesterday would be too late. He’s not stopping still, gradually increasing his speed as his legs allow and taking in what he can of his pursuer and surroundings. Even if Ravage decided to chase him, he’s had more than enough practice avoiding the sneaks alternate. Another variable in that; if there is one thing he has learned, it is that mechs are not their alternates.

The sword didn’t get a fraction of the way through planning adaptations to variances when the confrontation happened. Ravage was still larger, he barely came up to the chest. Still faster, if those similar finely wrought leg pistons were anything to go by. And considering the irony that the weapon really had no weapons of his own, he would have only one chance to strike a severe blow or anything combat would undoubtedly go in Ravages favor, leaving his only potential advantage in charisma. 

“Yes, it is a lie.” Epiphany looked up at the dark plated cybertronian and stood tall as he could, squared his shoulders, and narrowed his optics behind the visor up at Ravage, “I was not trained in suberfuge or the like. Most all of the issues I have encountered could be solved with the liberal and or precise application of force, failing that, planet wide genocide. But I digress; I am late, and I am presently needed elsewhere. I must suggest you do not hinder me.”. 

Strange Encounters of the Small Kind

He didn’t expect it to work, but the awful lying was a bit unexpected. And offensive, honestly. He’d have thought the guy sneaking away from the Council would maybe have been a little less obvious. It’s when he speeds up though, that Ravage decides a full-on chase, while exciting and probably a better use of his time if only for the practice, would probably just lead to both of them getting it, and Soundwave has enough to worry about without Ravage brushing paws with the authorities–which is why Ravage has no fun in his life.  

And a two-legged mech barely bigger than Frenzy or Rumble and not a hint of a racer’s modifications in his scent thinking he’s going to outrun Ravage is just too much to let go. That cannot stand. 

One leap, then another, and Ravage tries to cut the stranger off with a jump and a twist, all black plating bristling defensively outward in the dank alley atmosphere, but with claws sheathed, fangs hidden, and weapons offline. He could just try to pounce on him right now, but that’s inadvisable with an unknown and also a little gross, the guy is still glittering with metal scrap and he just doesn’t want that smell lingering on his paws. It also doesn’t make for the best first impression. 

People don’t believe it, but Ravage is actually the diplomat of his little cohort.

Which is why he says, as he jumps: “For the love of–You’re going to get caught going this way, y’know!” in an attempt to defuse the situation and gauge random unknown’s intentions instead of something more immediately on point and helpful, like, “I don’t even have to smell you’re lying.” 

[keenepiphany]

Considering that the only mechs he would be worried about tailing him thing he is a non-sentient weapon, Epiphany isn’t much worried about being followed, so much as about being discovered, hence his getting clean is not a priority. If he’s small and unclean, that might actually help him blend in, as the smaller frames were used frequently for more dirty work on Costellatio, and no one paid attention to to them; himself being an exception.

So long as he was not some thing that one would want to look at, no one would look close enough to see the finer details that would discredit that, right? All he had to do was find a communications tower that could reach a relay, tap in, and comm The Lost Light. He could easily claim maintenance, and if questioned he knew enough to pass due to disciples of Adaptus commonly communicating with those of Epistemus. He just has to get there, and not-

Hey! Hold up!

Well, so much for that, he obviously does not ‘hold up’, “I can not,” How do lower casts talk again? He never interacted with them, “I have a meeting to get to and I am late.”

That works, right? He speeds up as he can. Is there a high vantage point that he can see where a tower may be? One that is also accessable to a smaller frame? He really doesn’t think it would be a good idea at this point to mass shift larger.

Strange Encounters of the Small Kind

See. Ravage had noticed the refuse shoot. He had noticed the refuse shoot, noticed it diligently with the mark of a true professional, including notes, because Soundwave liked that sort of thing, and then made to pass it on by because it was still early, he wouldn’t be able to enter the building for a long while yet, and also as a professional (if not exactly, strictly speaking, a trained professional) he knew that there were undoubtedly more dignified means of entrance and exit to a building than the shitway express.

Which is of course when something that distinctly doesn’t belong comes rattling out of the tunnel, causing Ravage to instinctively press himself belly-down to the ground and conscientiously away from the stream, still like a living shadow. It’s a mech, because of course it is, and the way they move is–interesting. 

The fact they’re apparently desperate enough to run away from a building with telling, foul-smelling (and Soundwave thinks he has the monopoly on sensory overload, ugh) evidence dripping behind them like a thousand little neon signs is even more interesting. 

The chances of that mech being part of the reason Ravage is here? Pretty high. Which means he might have to put his mouth on that. 

Ravage sighs, because of course this happens on his mission and never the birds’, of course it does, but at least this is more entertaining than sneaking around, and propels himself from his crouched position with a powerful leap to set himself on the mech’s tail as soon as the guy bolts. “Hey! Hold up!” 

[keenepiphany]

Strange Encounters of the Small Kind

The refuse shoot spews out chunks of metal, thin sheets of broken glass, and a solution of any number of liquids that might include oil and post-processed energon. It also spits out a tiny mech, who deftly grips the upper edge of the discharge tunnel and swings up, landing on this feet atop it with a grace practiced millions of times over on his mount. Even crouched, his back is strait and his optics rest level after an efficient examination of the area. Deeming it clear, he stands with a posture that eminates pride and discipline, completely at odds with the dripping dark mess that leaves not a spot of his usually immaculate finish showing. To his left is one of the bright ribbons of road he saw while descending, to the right is a dark, narrow, and ominous alleyway. 

Epiphany leaps off the shoot and hits the ground running. He’s headed right.

[keenepiphany]

On Metal Gears and Solid State Drives...

Epiphnay lay where he was thrown on the floor, slightly to the side of a loosely strewn pile of non-sentient weapons, steeling himself against the storm of fury and frustration that was spiraling in him(blasphemers and heretics, a violation of something so sacred was unforgivable; and what felt like such a shameful personal failing- he should have been more alert, should have demanded someone else go in his stead, should have gone in his stead...). The others in his party had been ‘authenicated’ and since taken elsewhere, leaving him discarded. But not quite. One of the mono-optic mechs(had he been referred to as Seven?) is still in the room, monologueing to another that entered after the ordeal. Considering his orders and current lack of information, the sword decided it would be prudent to eaves drop.

“Such wanton and unnecessary damage to my new exhibit. It is a Prime, and look what they did.” The sound of scraping metal of a tone that could only be the fine sheeting of a spoiler, “Authenticated and matched an outlier already in our custody, interestingly enough. I believe  I will be putting them on display together. Speaking of that exhibit,” Epiphany tweaked his sensors so he could use the footsteps as pings to his sonar systems, enabling him to see the spoiler handed off to another and the mech approaching him, “I haven’t seen one of these in a long time,” hands wrapped around his hilt and one slid down to cradle the flat of his blade, “Do you realize how long ago the Circle of Light left? This is a greatsword, one of their weapons. It connects to the spark of the wielder, and of those it kills.”

“Sir,” one of the enforcers was still in the room, “That still needs to be cataloged-”

“Indeed, it does,” he moves as to hand him to the assistant.

“As evidence.” he motion jerks to a halt.

“...I see. Have it delivered to me after processing,” he set the weapon gently back down on the floor, “Such a priceless piece of Cybertronian history, see it’s taken care of.”

Seven glances around the space once more before waving a hand and departing, assistant with the spoiler trotting behind. The enforcer, the one that removed him from Rodimus if he wasn’t mistaken, began sifting through all the weapons, tying tags on them as he went before scooping them all up in large arms and taking them through several halls with turns and distances he committed to memory, and depositing them on a shelf.

Epiphany waited, well over an hour after he heard the door shut from the enforcers departure, he waited and listened. If he turned his audials up to full, he could hear mechs at least fifteen steps before they passed, giving him enough warning to transform back to root if he feels the need to. It’s a large room he’s been confined to, brimming with neatly aligned shelves and not so neatly piled items, all of them with tags like what had been tied to him(it flaps annoyingly behind him, just out of reach). There’s nothing he needs, so he climbs up to the top shelves, searching the opulent and stylized mechanism molding for a vent. There is no screen behind the cogs when he finds one, so he’s able to wiggle his tiny and slim form through.

Now, about that escape...