The Edge of Enlightenment

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…

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 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.

“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. 

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.” 

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. 

“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.”

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.

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. 

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. 

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.”