#lastofthirteen

Kup watched as the large prime went down on his knees to be at his height, being called beautiful isn't something Kup expected to hear....well from anyone. Mostly because he felt he wasn't beautiful, he was a soldier...he doesn't do beautiful, buuut he'd let it slide because it's Zeta.

@lastofthirteen

" Oh, I do-- but, perhaps, I hath not met thee in thine own universe. " The ancient Prime mused, unable to help but move to his knees all to peer closer at Rodimus. Optics zoomed in, then out, scanning the younger Prime over in curiosity.

Soon, though, Zeta gave a smile under his helmet and held out a servo, leaning on his staff slightly. Being able to meet so many others really did brighten his day, he'd admit! He just... didn't expect to meet so many others from universes so similar to his own. Did this one deal with the shunning of others, too?... Perhaps he could help with that?

" 'Tis an honor to meet thee, Rodimus Prime. "

It's not who you think.

Everyone who knew him, knew what he had been through, had taken the time to stop him BEFORE getting here. Rodimus had gotten some version of the same story about six times: a different prime, interdimensional travel, a Zeta Prime who was not like the one Rodimus met, blah blah blah.

His answer to every single mech that stopped him had been: "I'll believe it when I see it."

And now here he is, standing in front of a mech that looks so much like the one he met. Still towers over him, still holds himself with that air of nearly ethereal superiority— with the difference that this one's feels NATURAL, and his Zeta's always felt like something he was shoving down everyone's throats. A reminder that he was superior, and everyone else was beneath him. Subjects. SLAVES.

"Perhaps, I hath not met thee in thine universe."

Rodimus can't help but snort at that, though there is no amusement in it or in his expression. A bitter feeling makes the energon coursing through him go sour.

He tenses —his hand rests over his chest plate, protectively, instinctively shielding the matrix that he holds within— when Zeta holds his servo out. Rodimus forces himself to relax, but is still hesitant even as he reaches to shake the larger servo that is being offered to him. He's only able to do it by comforting himself with the fact that he has killed this mech once, and he could probably pull it off again if need be. A scary thing to find comfort in. But whatever makes him behave diplomatically will do.

He didn't know how long he had been with the Quintesons. He didn't know how long it had been since he was betrayed. Frag he wasn't really sure how he even escaped. Everything was a haze of screams and guts and... something else? he couldn't...

His transformation sequence was jagged, sharp. Something tore off as he crashed into the entrance of the main building. He forgot the name, where it even was. But he could navigate it. He could....

He careened into a wall, a trail of energon behind him as a wing broke off, clattering to the floor. A console. He needed, he had, he had to...

There, there one was. A leg gave out as he scrambled to it, collapsing against the console with a harsh wheeze and cough. Energon dribbled down his chin, unspoling his data cable. Another harsh vent, dizzy as he forced it in. Dumping the data into it, slowly slipping down and collapsing against it.

Venting harshly, optics flickering as he heard the shouts. He wouldn't be surprised if he was shot for invading like this. He didn't care, he just needed to give them the information. All of it, everything he had. Slowly he slipped down, all but collapsing to the ground, his connection to the console the only thing keeping him even slightly upright.

     A closed planned starter for @lastofthirteen

             After eons of a long and dreadful war that nearly caused the destruction of two different worlds, it was finally over. The Autobots won, Earth was no longer in danger and everyone could, finally, be at peace.

             Despite the good ending this ordeal had, there was still one major problem: Cybertron was completely destroyed and lifeless due to the consequences of such major event, not even Earth had the necessary resources to restore a single square of the planet.

             Fortunately, there was a solution to this problem: an artifact responsible for the creation of all life was, coincidentally, well hidden on Earth! All that was left to do is acquire it to restore the planet! Unfortunately, High Tide was the only mech capable to reach the exact location of it, as the signal of it pointed towards the Mariana Trenches.

             Using his Megabot in order to reach greater depths easily, it actually took quite a while before his radars caught a strong energon reading deep below. It was.... a citadel? It looked like it, at least, despite the seemingly spaceship-like elements surrounding it. That could be probably where the artifact was stored for the sake of keeping it away from the enemy.

             Somehow, the feeling of intense deja vu surrounded him... much to his demise.

             Looming closer, bright lights were turned on as he carefully scouted around the ‘building’ on the lookout for any sort of opening that could be related to an entrance, stopping by the biggest one he could find. The seamech could, teorically, hop off and go inside but he wasn’t taking any risks again.

Sitting in the darkness of those barracks in his berth again, Zeta had been... pretty much left to his own devices after one of the tougher fights-- he went up against a big guy this time, HUGE. Wasn't Megatronus himself (he'd quite literally DIE if that were the case), but... well, Primus, how'd he even manage to get through it? There was just... Something that happened, something he couldn't understand too well. At some point, in the fight, the big guy FELL. That shouldn't've been possible. Not when he'd been practically so graceful prior. Yet... he DID. He FELL. And Zeta actually WON! Though, he still dealt with a ton of damage to his frame... so now he had to recover. Meant licking his own wounds, mainly, so he was just having to sit alone if it meant carefully cleaning up his plating and fixing up dinky wires... Though... there was a presence here. One that he remembered feeling before-- like in the fight. The big guy tripped, and he felt that presence. Now it was happening again. He looked up from his wounds he'd been trying to tend to, grimacing slightly... he would've tried to say something else, 'til... There was an EM field. It was... well, not really overwhelming, but he FELT it-- and it felt like it was saying something. Does it bother you? Awkwardly, Zeta peered up and looked around, the mere gladiator trying so hard to understand what was going on. He... tried to talk to... whatever it was. " I-I can handle it. Uh... thank you? " He was so lucky he was alone. At least, he thought he was.

He should not have been tampering. He should not check on him so often, that would have probably reduced the temptation. Oh how he hated to see him hurt, and so frequently, to make matters worse.

What if he had been offlined? That simple question was enough to override his judgement. He wished Zeta had a safer world to experience through the eyes of a new life... But he didn't, and here they are.

Rescorre listened as the subtle curiosity of his presence was not only perceived, but answered. Interesting...

'Handle it,' did not sound very convincing. Silent and unseen, he moved nearer and applied the gentlest of pressure, a ghost of a palm's touch, to one of Zeta's main wounds. The pain eased immediately, although it was not entirely erased.

" How I missed you so--!~... " A pause. " Why do I keep hearing from the little forgelings that you were dead. I'd presumed you just took a vacation... "

// @lastofthirteen

Huh? That voice, those steps....

Before he could even finish his thoughts Kup felt himself being scooped up into someone's servos. His first reaction as to clobber whoever it was but stopped when he realized it was Zeta....he hasn't seen him in awhile why wasn't anyone asking if HE was dead?

When she had seen the damage Zeta had sustained, there wasn't a thought in her processor of if she should help him. The movements were automatic - sitting him down and grabbing her repair kit, making sure to clean and patch the wounds with a steady servo and better concentration she'd had for, well, Primus only knew how long. Sure, she generally had good attention and concentration, but there was something about tending to the injured that put it into turbo.

She was so focused, she had nearly forgotten exactly where they were, and the frames scattered around them of bots who thought they could really stand a chance against a Prime. She helped too, of course.

She had turned away from his arm to grab another piece of equipment from her kit when she heard him speak up. Her finials flicked and her optics widened a touch as she shifted her gaze to look up at him. She had to process his words for a moment before a small smile slipped over her derma and a light laugh left her while she shook her helm and went back to what she was doing.