Bulwark of Cybertron

Origin

It was rare for Providentius to see and speak with another person at eye-level. Most of the time he would have to kneel to get on the same level as many of his peers. Even rarer was someone of such height possessing a comparable physique. Providentius was built as his chosen class implied. Like a titan of old, a perfectly symmetrical work of synthetic musculature evoked a sort of synthesis between classic and modern sculptures beneath his suit of heavy armor. Jet-black synthetic fibers stretched over a minimal crimson skeletal frame, and a single gold strip ran down the centerline of his forehead, supplemented by the gold antennae on his ears. His gaze blazed in the same color, accenting further the black and crimson plating that comprised a neo-knight’s visage. Taking off his helmet, he bowed in turn to Chance-2′s greeting, as one befitting his overall appearance.

“Pleased to make your acquaintance. I am Providence-3. I am not looking for something tangible in particular,” he admitted with an apologetic dip in his tone. “Truthfully, I was mostly wandering. I am in search of answers, but not ones that are easily found; the questions I’m asking are unique to us, questions of origin and purpose.”

Glancing in the direction of where the Farm was from their position in the EDZ, Providence-3 put his helmet back on. “I don’t intend to burden you with them,” he added, “but if possible, I may be able to find the answers to my questions if I travel with you. Of course, I will render my assistance however I can, for however long I am able. Is this suitable for you?”

hallofheroes

Chance took in the whole appearance of the fellow Exo with a flare of his eyes. He was quite the sight, all of the immaculate plates on his head gleaming in the low sunlight, as did the decorative ornaments on what looked like ancient, ceremonial armor. It was one of those sets Chance has always dreamed of having enough glimmer to afford but never managed to save up due to his hopelessly impulsive spending. Somehow it also looked like something glimmer couldn’t buy. Relics of the past.

For such a giant, this new acquaintance was both gentle in manners and voice, even if the voice was deep enough to wake even the comatose from deep slumber. Chance raised his brow, already deeply curious about this big stranger.

“Oh. Well, uh…” Chance felt Maverick softly vibrating next to his head, clearly wound up from what the stranger’s mission entailed. He knew he was about to get an earful about Guardians’ forbidden searches for a nonexistent past. While he was a simple guy mostly preoccupied with earning glimmer and enjoying pleasant company when he wasn’t working, Chance too wished he had more answers to the questions he’d always get behind closed door from the more organic companions he’d shared his life with over the years.

“Always appreciate company, so this is more than suitable. Are you following some trail out here?” He asked, clearly interested to hear more. He didn’t put his helmet back on, just set it down on his Sparrow’s seat. “I haven’t honestly ever found out much myself, poked around some old archives in the Ishtar Collective years ago, before the Taken invaded, but I couldn’t find anything,” A shadow passed over Chance’s face. “Joined a group of scientists and archaeologists as security for exploring the big vex Vault and it went all kinds of bad, only me and a hunter made it back out. Haven’t been back since.” Chance finished with a sigh that sounded more frustrated than mournful. “Earth’s likely a better place to search for answers. Not so many secrets, just lots of places to look for and not much left to look through I guess, heh.”

Chance cocked his head toward the Farm and sat back up on his Sparrow, flipping his helmet up into his hands. “Guess we have ourselves a Fireteam! Of two, but hey, that’s at least a start.” Chance slipped his helmet back on and gripped his handlebars, revving the engine of the Sparrow to warm up the vehicle. “

#Providence IC #hallofheroes

“If there is a trail to be followed, it is one that can’t be seen,” Providence-3 replied, settling back against his own sparrow with a cross of his arms. “I believe the answer is to be found doing what we are already skilled at; battle and warfare. The Ishtar Collective hold little insight beyond a few clues and no discernable answers. I have my own suspicions, but beyond these there is nothing but speculation. Ana Bray, I’ve heard, is pursuing more concrete leads on Mars, but that has more to do with her past, and not necessarily the origins of our creation. Braytech aside, there is little to be found there. And I am more interested in the why than the how.”

Providence-3 climbed onto his sparrow and started it’s engine, nodding in agreement with Chance’s declaration. “The two of us should be sufficient for a simple patrol around Earth. We are in our home turf, with nearby support from both the Farm and the Last City. We should be able to deal with any resistance we encounter.”

Origin

#Providence IC #hallofheroes

It was rare for Providentius to see and speak with another person at eye-level. Most of the time he would have to kneel to get on the same level as many of his peers. Even rarer was someone of such height possessing a comparable physique. Providentius was built as his chosen class implied. Like a titan of old, a perfectly symmetrical work of synthetic musculature evoked a sort of synthesis between classic and modern sculptures beneath his suit of heavy armor. Jet-black synthetic fibers stretched over a minimal crimson skeletal frame, and a single gold strip ran down the centerline of his forehead, supplemented by the gold antennae on his ears. His gaze blazed in the same color, accenting further the black and crimson plating that comprised a neo-knight’s visage. Taking off his helmet, he bowed in turn to Chance-2′s greeting, as one befitting his overall appearance.

“Pleased to make your acquaintance. I am Providence-3. I am not looking for something tangible in particular,” he admitted with an apologetic dip in his tone. “Truthfully, I was mostly wandering. I am in search of answers, but not ones that are easily found; the questions I’m asking are unique to us, questions of origin and purpose.”

Glancing in the direction of where the Farm was from their position in the EDZ, Providence-3 put his helmet back on. “I don’t intend to burden you with them,” he added, “but if possible, I may be able to find the answers to my questions if I travel with you. Of course, I will render my assistance however I can, for however long I am able. Is this suitable for you?”

Origin

He woke up again to a vision of death. It happened every time his eyes switched off and the meeting of a once-human mind and a mechanical subroutine met.

Or maybe it was supposed to be his gentle reminder; he was born to kill. The entire purpose of his being was built for it. Perhaps it was his makers’ way of preventing his kind to forming attachments that would prevent them from fulfilling their programmed purpose.

Why did they bother to give a weapon a human likeness?

Providence-3 leaned up and rested his arms on bent knees, alone in a tower that offered scare more comfort than the one he always fought towards, murdering everyone he had ever met and seen along the way. Most of the time it was never an issue; under the direction of the Vanguard, he had no shortage of battle, no lack of memories that he remembered where he had killed without remorse. But it only took a few friendly faces to give him pause, enough for him to loosen the weapon he held in his dreams, just long enough for those closest to him to drive a blade through his heart.

Even if exo’s could sweat, Providence-3 had long lost the surprise and fear that would have him awaken terrified. But he was old enough to remember, one of the few, and one of the ones who could still count the number of resets he needed on one hand.

He stood up, a sigh escaping him, and he left his room. As he stepped outside, Providence-3 walked under the morning sun to a tower bustling with activity, guardians and humanity’s legacy alike beside themselves with a variety of business he did not bother to know. From atop the Tower, the newly awoken Traveller loomed in the sky. Beyond a momentary glance, Providence-3 did not pay more attention than he ought to. His ghost remained silent all the way to his jumpship.

When he searched for answers, he searched in the battlefields where death made it’s home. He was at home with both, and nowhere was death more at home than the European Dead Zone. When his trasmat put him on the surface of the ruins, Providence-3 walked with his rifle in hand. And then he began to look.

hallofheroes

“14,16, 18…22, see? It’s 22.”

“It’s only 20, those two are stuck together.”

A smash. “There. 22!”

“Well, now it’s 19 and a half or 22 out of which two and a half are broken.”

“Eh, some glue will hold any Fallen junk together. Call it in.”

“…”

“Please?”

Whirling white lights engulfed the Fallen gearbits as the Ghost transmatted it to the Patrol commissioner. and the Ghost somehow managed to do it disgruntedly. Chance-2 clapped his hands together to rid his gloves of dust and got on his Sparrow.

“Thank you! That should be all of it.” the Exo said over shoulder to his sulking Ghost. “Come on, we’ve been out here long enough to rust. I just need to hit the Farm up before heading home, there was a report of roaming Fallen too close for comfort and I just wanna check it out.” Chance said as he bent down to fiddle with a few of the lose cables poking out of the hatches that had been blown off in his latest pass through The Sludge. He always made sure to push the Sparrow to its shrieking limits to get past the forest, the roaming living shadows of Taken and the generally awful feeling he got when nearing the place.

“Home…warmth, food, drink and my date! Gotta clean up nice so she doesn’t mistake me for a Dreg with this stink all over me.”

“I really wish you minded the quality of these deliveries, Chance.”

“Maverick, I’ve done enough good out here today to earn me half a years worth of leave!”

“Guardians don’t earn-”

The Ghost’s gentle voice was drowned out by the excessivey loud groan of his Guardian who gripped the handles of his Sparrow.

“Alright, alright! Gotcha, no more broken Fallen junk, just grade-a quality Fallen junk from now on.”

Chance almost heard the thoughts of his frustrated Ghost and sighed. Both of them had been out in the ruins and swamps long enough to make even the most stoic Guardian ill-tempered. Maverick “nodded” reluctantly and hid himself from view as Chance was abut to kick his Sparrow off the ground. The sight of the giant fellow Titan coming down the hill he’d parked below stopped him, jerking his head up to look up at the looming Guardian above. Chance slowly slid a hand to his sidearm that rested, barely used, in its holster on his belt. Never could be sure with people nowadays, the loss of Light had done a number on a few people he once considered to be good ones. He greeted the imposing figure above him with a standard Titan salute.

“Hey, sorry I kinda cleaned up the area, but I’m just heading out.” Chance called up to the stranger, then gestured past the ruins that covered the field he’d just come from. “There’s a roaming band of Cabal two clicks to the east though, might wanna watch out for that. The Centurion at the helm of it had his back full of so many banners he looked like a living flagpole.” he ended with a small chuckle through his helm.

#Providence IC #artium-propugnatorum

Providence-3 glimpsed the tell-tale sign of speeder movement in the distance, and readied his rifle. A glimpse down the telescopic sight showed him that it was a sparrow, and not the occasional pike gangs that he was used to encountering in the area. A guardian, presumably, was it’s driver; Providence-3′s assumption was confirmed shortly thereafter, and upon seeing Chance salute he reciprocated, his motions slow and dignified.

“Thank you for your work, guardian,” he replied with a grateful nod. “I am not necessarily intent on fighting, but if they cross me in my travels I shall answer them appropriately. Are you patrolling this area? What plans did you have for them, if anything?”

Origin

He woke up again to a vision of death. It happened every time his eyes switched off and the meeting of a once-human mind and a mechanical subroutine met.

Or maybe it was supposed to be his gentle reminder; he was born to kill. The entire purpose of his being was built for it. Perhaps it was his makers’ way of preventing his kind to forming attachments that would prevent them from fulfilling their programmed purpose.

Why did they bother to give a weapon a human likeness?

Providence-3 leaned up and rested his arms on bent knees, alone in a tower that offered scare more comfort than the one he always fought towards, murdering everyone he had ever met and seen along the way. Most of the time it was never an issue; under the direction of the Vanguard, he had no shortage of battle, no lack of memories that he remembered where he had killed without remorse. But it only took a few friendly faces to give him pause, enough for him to loosen the weapon he held in his dreams, just long enough for those closest to him to drive a blade through his heart.

Even if exo’s could sweat, Providence-3 had long lost the surprise and fear that would have him awaken terrified. But he was old enough to remember, one of the few, and one of the ones who could still count the number of resets he needed on one hand.

He stood up, a sigh escaping him, and he left his room. As he stepped outside, Providence-3 walked under the morning sun to a tower bustling with activity, guardians and humanity’s legacy alike beside themselves with a variety of business he did not bother to know. From atop the Tower, the newly awoken Traveller loomed in the sky. Beyond a momentary glance, Providence-3 did not pay more attention than he ought to. His ghost remained silent all the way to his jumpship.

When he searched for answers, he searched in the battlefields where death made it’s home. He was at home with both, and nowhere was death more at home than the European Dead Zone. When his trasmat put him on the surface of the ruins, Providence-3 walked with his rifle in hand. And then he began to look.

#Providence IC

Providence’s reply was swift, and so too his pace increased by the tiniest measure as he strove and sought without direction.

There is no logic in poetry, only reality. There no practicality in toiling over a meager existence in the Sea of Rust when Cybertron’s energon is found in the population centers. Neither is there is anything practical in exile, only necessity. It is in the spirit of necessity that I have come; I am looking for answers. I was hoping you could provide these.

He remembered a similar circumstance from ages past. It was not the first time he had spoken these words before. He had always desired answers from another, or even from Megatron himself, back when he was known by a slightly different name, from a not-too-distant occupation, in the twilight years of an increasingly corrupt society and an increasingly poisonous senate. Some answered with prudence, and wisdom. These Providence rejected, for they came from the elites and the privileged of society. He himself was part of that Elite Guard, and he regretted his stationed in life. In rebellion, he turned his ear instead to the miners and the gladiators. That answer led to countless years of war, suffering, and death.

Why did he believe that the answer he received would be any different, now?

Why did you leave? Optimus is dead. The Autobots are peacekeeping while your people grow complacent. They languish in petty banditry, no better than marauders and raiders, with no one that is capable or willing to lead them back to a place in society, to say nothing of peace with their neighbors. Will you let this be all that remain of your legacy? Is this what you fought for? Or did you simply give up?

Providence curled and uncurled his fingers at intervals around the pommel of his anchor-sword. He was being watched, but from where, he could not exactly triangulate. Still, he knew he was within communications range, and in the open fields wastelands there were few places where a mech of Megatron’s stature could hide.

If it truly did come to battle, he did not particularly worry; his armored cloak still hung proud, draped around broad shoulders, and he still had a plethora of guns and missiles; it would offer him an edge, at least, if Megatron chose to relive their days of wars and duels. They were old hands at it now, and it was a dance they were both familiar with.

#Providence IC #pacificae-mors

Get to Know Me Uncomfortably Well (modified for TF)

1. What is your name?

2. How old are you?

3. Where are you from?

4. Who is your patron Prime?

5. What is your favorite color?

6. What's your lucky number?

7. Do you have any pets?

8. Where are you from?

9. How tall are you?

10. What frame class are you?

11. How many paint jobs have you gone through?

12. What was your last dream about?

13. What are you good at doing?

14. Do you have any unusual abilities?

15. Favorite song?

16. Favorite movie?

17. What would your ideal partner be like?

18. Do you want to serve as a mentor?

19. How do you feel about spark bonding?

20. Are you religious?

21. Have you ever been to the hospital?

22. Have you ever got in trouble with the law?

23. Have you ever met any celebrities?

24. Which is better, an oil bath or a hot waxing?

25. What color is your paint right now?

26. What are you most known for?

27. What would you actually prefer to be most known for?

28. What type of music do you like?

29. Have you ever been skinny dipping?

30. Do you use pillows as a borrowed Earth convenience?

31. What position do you usually recharge in?

32. How big is your living space?

33. How often do you have to refuel?

34. Have you ever fired a gun?

35. Have you ever tried archery?

36. Favorite clean word?

37. Favorite swear word?

38. What's the longest you've ever gone without recharge?

39. Do you have any scars?

40. Have you ever had a secret admirer?

41. Are you a good liar?

42. Are you a good judge of character?

43. Can you do any other accents other than your own?

44. Do you have a strong accent?

45. What is your favorite accent?

46. What is your personality type?

47. What is your most expensive piece of clothing?

48. Can you curl your glossa?

49. How were you created?

50. Left or right handed?

51. Are you scared of spiderbots?

52. Favorite way to have your energon?

53. What's your alt mode?

54. Are you a clean or messy bot?

55. Most used phrase?

56. Most used word?

57. Are you a stickler for keeping up outward appearances?

58. Do you have much of an ego?

59. Are your dentae jagged or flat?

60. Do you talk to yourself?

61. Do you sing to yourself?

62. Are you a good singer?

63. Biggest fear?

64. Are you a gossip?

65. Best dramatic holovid you've seen?

66. Do you have light, average, or heavy armor?

67. Can you name every major city-state on Cybertron?

68. Current work duties?

69. Extrovert or Introvert?

70. Have you ever considered an aquatic alt mode?

71. What makes you nervous?

72. Are you scared of the dark?

73. Do you correct people when they make mistakes?

74. Are you ticklish?

75. Have you ever started a rumor?

76. Have you ever been in a position of authority?

77. Did you ever defy any rules meant to safeguard newbuilds?

78. Have you ever done questionable substances?

79. Who was your first real crush?

80. How many modifications do you have?

81. What is your idle fidget?

82. How fast can you type?

83. What's your top speed?

84. Do you have biolights, and if so, in what color?

85. What color are your optics?

86. Do you have any allergies?

87. Do you keep a journal?

88. Do you know Primal Vernacular?

89. Do you like your age?

90. What makes you angry?

91. Do you like your designation?

92. Have you ever been to a planet other than Earth or Cybertron?

93. Would you mentor a newbuild (or raise a sparkling)?

94. What are your strengths?

95. What are your weaknesses?

96. How do you feel about Minicons?

97. Have you suffered any unusually notable injuries?

98. Do you collect anything?

99. Horizontal or tilted berth?

100. What do you keep in your quarters?

@pacificae-mors

Desolation was nothing new to Providence. Cybertron was filled with desert, a giant relic of his regrets and the combined intentions of a people that fought for countless years. He wandered here often in solitude, but now he wandered not because he was lost, but to find another.

He had no guarantees that his former warlord was here, but his search led him here all the same, and he still had questions that needed answering. He held no preconceptions that Megatron would give him answers, but purpose drove his steps all the same, his signature crimson armored cloak drifting with the ashen breeze across the rusted metal landscape, a teal anchor-sword at his back and his energon reserves well-stocked despite days of travel.

In the middle of the metal desert, he stopped, standing still as the gold prongs that jutted from his helm began to glow, his sensors and communications array shunted with energy as he broadcast a single radio pulse across the empty expanse…

Some time when the river is ice ask me mistakes I have made. Ask me whether what I have done is my life. Others have come their slow way into my thought, and some have tried to help or to hurt. Ask me what difference their strongest love or hate has made.

I will listen to what you say. You and I can turn to look at the silent river and wait. We know the current is there, hidden; and there are comings and goings from miles away that holds the stillness exactly before us. What the river says, that is what I say.

Providence stood still and waited.

pacificae-mors

The words pulsed, echoing through an old network fallen long out of use.

Once, long ago, a powerful tacnet had spanned the desert. It had carried the weight of visual feed, vocal commands, sub-sonic directives — musical chirps of electric blue alongside crackling static in red, droplets of yellow affirmation and acidic green thunder to signal victory — the telltale song of war.

The war…

The war was over. The tacnet had fallen, like all else, to ruin. Silence had suffocated the once fizzing communications channels. Aided by rust and time, its hold had become a slow throttle.

The new signal shattered that silence into nothing with a mere clap of calm blue.

Like a bolt of lightning it became a beacon, simultaneously thundering and quiet. It flooded over landscape, into crevices and gullies, over metal ruins and into bristling clouds of rust storms far in the distance.

There was little living left in the desert to hear… fewer still would have been able to decipher the meaning behind the words.

Yet, as luck would have it, the signal reached its intended audience.

Megatron did not reply immediately. Only after several minutes had passed did a private channel rise from the old tacnet, bearing the warlord’s familiar identification number as it had when the desert had still been a battlefield. It pinged against Providence’s communications, tightly closed against all other outside listeners.

The warlord’s voice was unchanged, if a little hoarse from disuse. Like a physical weight it bore down through the channel, humming and purring as it always had — as though it could tease the words themselves to life without effort, or hone them to bladed edges to throw at his enemies.

“And as one they stood beneath/

Each bearing more than his load/

The watchers mocked and the mockers wept/

More afraid of free hands than shackles/

For when the rod descends they understand its angle.

They are damned by their own tongues/

Boiled in their own blood/

Singing praises to their murderers/

Lest they free them/

Tirelessly pursuing the cage in which they wish to perish.

Damn the contentment of a dying man/

With this dream,

They were not meant to be familiar.

You hound me, and These I name my sins/

Their blood I chased to rouse/

Their hands I clawed to free/

Their minds I broke to revive/

Their life, my vindication.”

Though he spoke, Megatron himself remained hidden, somewhere amid the rusted dunes.

#Providence IC #pacificae-mors

If the identification number did not convince Providence (and he wondered if these indeed could be faked), the poetry convinced him the response he received was genuine; it carried the same visceral imagery and the power of raw emotional fury that characterized everything Megatron did. This did not fade with time; to Providence’s perspective, it defined the former warlord, and everything that he did, whether it was in the war or it’s prelude.

Vindication? Life? He didn’t see it anywhere where he stood. But he did receive the signal, and he could triangulate it if he began to venture. So he began to walk again.

The dull, trembling thuds of his feet on impacting the hard metal of the landscape travelled far on empty air, and it was the only thing he could hear between the whispers of his own thoughts. Should he reply? Perhaps it was simply better to address the matter at hand. He was not one for obscuring his intentions behind poetry for long. If nothing else, his imposing stature and the glow of his helm would give away his presence. He did not fear it; he was hoping to be found.

At least, Providence radioed his reply, you have not lost your interest in poetry. It is not something I have heard in many cycles now. I feared it lost in the war, but I suppose that is a trivial regret compared to what we observe in our surroundings. What do you seek to find here? Or is the wandering simply an act of remembrance in exile?

It was not the question that Providence wished to ask, but it was a start all the same.

The Long Night

Providence, for the most part, was unmoved.

“I have lived far long enough with you to know that you are never unarmed,” Providence growled, but in his next gesture slowly and cautiously easing his sword back from Striker’s face. He turned ever so slightly to address the rest of the robots and human with him. “Go. All of you. Take Rider to safety. I will deal with Striker and his…proposal.”

Jerking back to glare at him, Providence added, “I will join you, but not as warrior to warrior, but warrior to guardian. I will not let you touch them. Not anymore. Make a wrong move and I will not hesitate to choose their lives over yours. I will test the validity of these statements.”

Rider looked ahead, incredulous. Was Providence going to leave just like that? Was he trying to simply put distance between Striker and the rest of them? But what if he got hurt? Rider wanted to reach out and to try and stop Providence, but the calm and unmoving gaze that he witnessed made him realize that Providence had already set his mind to it; there would be no changing his decision now.

Striker chuckled and nodded. “Perhaps, but then you would also know I waste no time on petty revenge escapades or pursuit battle like a fool. I came to speak to you, that is all.”

Striker gestured to the group behind Providence. “Your little herd can stay here. We will talk on the other side.” The warrior gestured to the portal. “I’ll leave my axe behind. Surely you know I would never sink so low to battle without it like some savage. Join me when you are ready.”

Striker gave Snowblind one last mockful look before turning slowly to disappear into the portal, leaving only the massive axe behind, sunken into the grass.

The others remained stunned. Snowblind whirled around to look up at Providence, the visible part of his face wrought with dread.

“You can’t trust him. You know that. Whatever he wants goes beyond just words. You have to know that.”

“Providence, you’re not going, are you?” Geardust hurried to join them are the forefront and almost cut Snowblind off before he had finished.

“I second this, Providence.” Lightfall spoke up from the sideline as well, albeit quietly and calmly with just the slightest hint of unease in his voice.

Hardwire slowly sat down next to Rider and looked the boy over just to make sure he was fine.

“On the contrary,” Providence growled. “I know that we have pursued vengeance for much of our lives, and were quick to strike and slow to stay our blades.”

Glancing behind with as much hope and confidence as he could muster, the old guardian nodded to the companions he would leave behind.

“I know that the danger is great, but this is true regardless of whether I stay or go. As it stands, I would rather have it all fall to me. Stay here, and stay strong, together. Look after Rider. I will return shortly. If you need to, use the space bridge to contact Volver, Crankit, Hawk, and the others.”

Having said this, Providence stepped through the space bridge to the other side.

The Long Night

Providence, for the most part, was unmoved.

"I have lived far long enough with you to know that you are never unarmed," Providence growled, but in his next gesture slowly and cautiously easing his sword back from Striker's face. He turned ever so slightly to address the rest of the robots and human with him. "Go. All of you. Take Rider to safety. I will deal with Striker and his...proposal."

Jerking back to glare at him, Providence added, "I will join you, but not as warrior to warrior, but warrior to guardian. I will not let you touch them. Not anymore. Make a wrong move and I will not hesitate to choose their lives over yours. I will test the validity of these statements."

Rider looked ahead, incredulous. Was Providence going to leave just like that? Was he trying to simply put distance between Striker and the rest of them? But what if he got hurt? Rider wanted to reach out and to try and stop Providence, but the calm and unmoving gaze that he witnessed made him realize that Providence had already set his mind to it; there would be no changing his decision now.

The Long Night

“I don’t make any distinctions between them as I would you,” Providence told Boresight sternly. “Do not be so quick to judge; many might see you in much the same way.”

Exasperated, Providence was about to physically intercede between Geardust and Boresight when the space bridge hummed to life. At first, relief swept over his features, happy that Geardust, Boresight, and Snowblind managed to fix their means to return home. It was only with Snowblind’s sudden explanation that his mind turned once again towards caution, but he had not yet crossed the threshold into suspicion. The other person had not arrived yet.

“We have lost contact with Volver and Crankit, to say nothing of Hawk and Disher,” Providence murmured, nudging Snowblind on the shoulder. “Perhaps they were simply worried and have waited for an opportunity to come through, now that the Space Bridge is repaired.”

Rider stood alongside Hardwire, his eyes alight with that familiar glow, and wondered if what Providence said was true; he himself had only experienced coming out the other side, the first time he had used it.

Snowblind considered Providence’s reasoning and simply nodded in turn. He sheathed his blade and let his shoulders sink, shaking his hands free of some tension and kept his optics fixated on the portal, expecting to see a familiar face.

He couldn’t help but sense dread crawl up his spine, regardless, perhaps it was just his roughly repaired internal systems. The nightmares had been unrelenting and full of memories that weren’t his own . It disturbed and scared him greatly and he was therefore likely the most eager of the group to make it back to Cybertron to get properly repaired.

“I wasn’t sure it was working, we did the best that we could…perhaps someone fixed it on the other end as well.” He mused, crossing his arms while they waited.

Geardust hoped in excitement to see his blue friend again and Hardwire smiled reassuringly at Rider, remaining kneeling by the boy’s side.

The portal lit up, stretched wide and tall like a massive beacon of light. Something enormous was coming through, slowly but surely. The silhouette that appeared made those familiar with the giant warrior assume it to be Hawk. Wings and a massive frame materialized in light.

As did a helm adorned in giant, curved horns. The light withdrew back into the portal and unclad the figure into a giant of dark armor and blood red accents. He greeted their faces of shock and horror with a cold, lopsided smile and stared right into Providence’s golden optics with an icy blue gaze.

Hardwire all but snatched Rider from the ground and set off running. Instead he flew up on his feet and stood guard before the boy, his brother stumbling back to his side as well. Snowblind had already armed himself again and stood ready to leap forward.

“Get Rider to safety, now.” He calmly ordered the mechs behind him.

“You are all in good shape after our last encounter, I see. Pleasant surprise, perhaps you’re a cadre made of sturdier stuff than others. Good. Though, you should’ve rid yourself of your traitor, he’ll surely sell you for a vat of rich engex and a oil soak on Hedonia.” Alpha Striker spoke calmly and unsheathed his great, black axe from his back and set it to the ground with his segmented gauntlets resting on the pommel.

As quickly as Providence recommended calm, he was suddenly at the front of the group, his fingers already curling against the pommel of his sword and withdrawing it just as he lowered it inches from Striker’s face.

Rider was taken up in what felt to him like a whirlwind, his eyes wide and his body limp, stunned from how quickly events had folded and glimpsing the obsidian and arctic gaze of an enemy he thought they defeated all those miles away. He almost forgot to breathe.

“I will only say this once, and then I will kill you,” Providence warned with a snarl. “Go back to where you came. We have no quarrel with you, unless you still hold a grudge against us.”

The Long Night

“I don’t make any distinctions between them as I would you,” Providence told Boresight sternly. “Do not be so quick to judge; many might see you in much the same way.”

Exasperated, Providence was about to physically intercede between Geardust and Boresight when the space bridge hummed to life. At first, relief swept over his features, happy that Geardust, Boresight, and Snowblind managed to fix their means to return home. It was only with Snowblind’s sudden explanation that his mind turned once again towards caution, but he had not yet crossed the threshold into suspicion. The other person had not arrived yet.

“We have lost contact with Volver and Crankit, to say nothing of Hawk and Disher,” Providence murmured, nudging Snowblind on the shoulder. “Perhaps they were simply worried and have waited for an opportunity to come through, now that the Space Bridge is repaired.”

Rider stood alongside Hardwire, his eyes alight with that familiar glow, and wondered if what Providence said was true; he himself had only experienced coming out the other side, the first time he had used it.

Character Prompt Template

(I assume this is being tagged for Providence, owing to whom has tagged me in this post. I have two main iterations of Providence for the two continuities that I RP him in. Whenever there is a distinction between these renditions of his character, I will make note of it here.)

► Name ➔ “Providence.”

► Are you single ➔

(Aligned): “Yes.”

(IDW): “No.”

► Are you happy ➔ “I am when my people are content and provided for.”

► Are you angry? ➔ “I am when I see my people suffer at the hands of another, or from infighting.”

► Are your parents still married ➔ “This isn’t applicable to Cybertronians.”

NINE FACTS

► Birth Place ➔

(Aligned): “The well of all-sparks, as all other Cybertronians.”

(IDW): “Cybertron, in one of the consecrated hotspots. The metal that gave the shape you see me in now might have come from one of Cybertron’s moons, in the days of old.”

► Hair Color ➔ “Cybertronians don’t have these. But, the color of my helm is crimson, and the prongs of my sensor’s array is gold.”

► Eye Color ➔ “Gold.”

► Birthday ➔ “We don’t measure days in a way that would be meaningful. Instead I will give a more accurate measure; it was in the days of old, in the days of Primes, empire, and expansion. It was far before the present troubles you see today.”

► Mood ➔ “Peaceful. When there is no war, then the sufferings of this life become much more bearable, and more easily corrected. This does not mean to say that I am happy; but I have learned to be content with many of the troubles of life, and to accept them as means by which I and others may grow and learn from. Perhaps by this we may yet find ourselves a path into a lasting and better world.”

► Gender ➔ “By human standards, I would be coded in the masculine sense of things, by and large. But I hope to embody some of the nurturing qualities commonly associated with humanity’s femininity, as well.”

► Summer or winter ➔ “A summer’s sun makes for a pleasant sail, and the winter snow brings with it a unique beauty to Earth. I enjoy both for what they offer.”

► Morning or afternoon ➔ “Sunrises are good for inspiration; afternoons are for winding down from work.”

EIGHT THINGS ABOUT YOUR LOVE LIFE

► Are you in love ➔

(Aligned): “Not with a particular individual.”

(IDW): “That is one way of putting it.”

► Do you believe in love at first sight ➔ “A possibility that is greatly overshadowed by what most would call infatuation. It is impossible to tell with a first impression; I don’t think anybody can know themselves well enough to make an immediate distinction. The mind so easily tells itself the lies it wishes to hear...”

► Who ended your last relationship ➔

(Aligned): “You assume I had one to begin with.”

(IDW): “Shadowplay. That isn’t the name of a person, but it is the act of villains.”

► Have you ever broken someone’s heart ➔ “If I have, it wasn’t by intention.”

► Are you afraid of commitments ➔ “Never. All things in life that is of worth ought to be committed to wholeheartedly, or not be bothered with.”

► Have you hugged someone within the last week? ➔

(Aligned): “Nobody in particular that would come to mind.”

(IDW): “I think I hugged Geardust last week? He’s is in need of them more often than he would admit.”

► Have you ever had a secret admirer ➔ “Nobody that hasn’t eventually confessed something of the sort.”

► Have you ever broken your own heart? ➔ “In a word, yes. The story behind that would take lifetimes to recollect.”

SIX CHOICES

► Love or lust ➔ “I have experienced both, and of the two, the former is far greater.”

► Lemonade or iced tea ➔ “Cybertronians don’t have equivalents of these. I do, however, believe Rider likes lemonade more...”

► Cats or Dogs ➔ “Rider seems to like dogs more. I know they are known for their loyalty, and a generally sunny attitude that stands in stark contrast to the austerity of cats.”

► A few best friends or many regular friends ➔ “What defines a ‘best’ or ‘regular’ friend? For me, a friend is one who I lay my life down for, and there are many for whom I would do this, and will continue to do so. There is nothing ‘regular’ about that, but I find that this is the only definition of ‘friend’ that holds real value.”

► Wild night out or romantic night in ➔ “I have known people who favor one over another. Personally, I have no particular preference.”

► Day or night ➔ “In the day, there is much to be done, but at night I find myself walking among and counting the stars...Take that as you will.”

FIVE HAVE YOU EVERS

► Been caught sneaking out ➔ “Nowhere that I had not already announced my intentions of leaving.”

► Fallen down/up the stairs ➔ “I can recall a few occasions of these, when in battle.”

► Wanted something/someone so badly it hurt? ➔ “Everything I have wanted I have fought and bled for; there is nothing else of worth.”

► Wanted to disappear ➔ “Once.”

FOUR PREFERENCES

► Smile or eyes ➔ “Many might claim that the eyes speak everything, but for me, a genuine smile will always be louder. It is easier to lie with a smile, but those who choose sincerity in all their actions have the better part.”

► Shorter or Taller ➔ “Sometimes I think my imposing stature comes at a greater inconvenience than the troubles of my contemporaries.”

► Intelligence or Attraction ➔ “Intelligence must be wielded with wisdom; attraction is a natural instinct; in both, I counsel prudence.”

► Hook-up or Relationship ➔

(Aligned): “Relationships are always more ideal; nobody can fully determine the consequences of a hook-up. Acknowledged or not, there is always something moving beneath the surface.”

(IDW): “I have experienced both; of the two, only the latter carries depth, and in the end it is the depth of a matter that determines the distance it will travel. Relationships will always last longer, and thus more worth striving towards.”

FAMILY

► Do you and your family get along ➔

(Aligned): “This idea isn’t applicable to Cybertronians.”

(IDW): “As to the family that I have come to define the term by, I would say that we do.”

► Would you say you have a “messed up life” ➔ “That is one way of interpreting it, but I would rather define my experiences by how I respond to them more than focusing on the events themselves, whether they benefited or hurt me.”

► Have you ever ran away from home ➔ “I have walked away from it, but never ran. It was not something to fear such that I might seek refuge elsewhere, nor something so repulsive that I thought it impossible to redeem.”

► Have you ever gotten kicked out ➔ “A civil war twists the experiences of ‘home’ into something that feels much more foreign. It is more accurate to say that we burned down the home that we knew. Who held the planet didn’t matter; even those who seized the privilege to walk on its surface couldn’t recognize it anymore.”

FRIENDS

► Do you secretly hate one of your friends ➔ “I have hated the actions that some of my friends have taken, and I hold them responsible for such decisions, but I have never hated my friends themselves; otherwise, the word is meaningless.”

► Do you consider all of your friends good friends ➔ “What I consider is not the whole picture; ask them. Then, look at my words and my actions and determine for yourself.”

► Who is your best friend ➔

(Aligned): “Silence and solitude. Those aren’t people.”

(IDW): “There is no single one; I count them all among equals, and I am especially fond of all of them.”

Tagged by @pacificae-mors

Tagging: @gear-dust @snowblind05 @thesixteenthspark

#ooc post

The Long Night

“Snowblind,” Providentius admonished sternly. “I know you don’t mean those words. You are still injured and not in your right mind. Slow your thoughts, and think on them before being so reckless with your words.”

Turning to Boresight, he added with even greater admonishment in his tone, “You are hardly one to speak, Boresight, given the company you stand with.” He took a few steps towards the former seeker for emphasis, crossing his arms and looking down at him with a piercing, bright gaze. “And you know VERY well that I back my words up with my actions. Do not push the issue.”

Rider, witnessing these things, scurried out from beneath Hardwire and ran towards the group. “Hey guys, come on,” he pleaded. “Let’s not get on each other’s nerves. We only just got out of that awful Earth Defense Command bunker, and the whole point of all this is so you guys can get the help you guys need back home on Cybertron! You aren’t enemies anymore...”

The Long Night

@handsofprovidence

—– The evening air of high summer still remained fairly temperate though accompanied with the wind of the coast. The forest still filled with songs of the small birds that still braved the protection of their nests and territories against the giants that had arrived in their home some time ago. Giants that disturbed the trees and dented the earth but otherwise bothered none of the wildlife. A young mother fox called her cubs out of their safe den where she had held out as long as possible until they were grown enough to join her. The air reeked of strange, harsh smells to her and with her cubs in tow she made her quick escape out of the woods. She felt the eyes of a giant on her as she stalked away, quickening her and the cubs’ pace. Hardwire zoomed in closely while watching the little family of foxes leave the area, bodies held low to the ground in apprehension and mouths open and panting while they ran. A small frown formed on his face, one that grew slightly more severe as the noise nearby interrupted his thoughts. “If you ‘accidentally’ blast my hand with that torch one more time I will assemble your limbs in sockets where limbs ought not to be.” “Like it really hurts that bad!” “It does. Look at the finish on my gauntlet, it took me several difficult hours to get that polish to match and now you’ve melted it off around the knuckles because you have the precision of a drunk insecticon.” “Focus.” “You’re just standing around looking at us work.” “Hardly. Had I not been a mediator in this task, you two would’ve made a mess of eachother.” “Right so get your fat hands back in and hold the frame back up so I can set it.” “Now that’s just projection on your part, have you seem the sleek, surgical perfection of my fine tuned servos? I can barely see what I’m doing for your fat nosecone getting in my face.” “Focus.” Hardwire observed the three decepticons Snowblind, Boresight and Lightfall, who apparently acted as mediator, trying to cooperate around the tight space on the undearthed space bridge engine. He held a concerned hand to his chin and side-eyed Skyshark. “They should’ve just waited for my brother,” Hardwire whispered, gently, to the autobot ace. “He’s really small and quite flexible in cramped spaces like that!” Hardwire would’ve worried about his brother’s long absence if it weren’t for the one that accompanied him. However, he realized if they did not return soon, the strain between the decepticons, former or otherwise, would come to a head. Hardwire raised his arm to open in on-board computer to contact either Geardust or Providence but soon heard their steps draw near, along with the warning call of a fox mother to her cubs.

Skyshark felt an untenable itch develop beneath his armor. He stood on his feet for too long, and he made a habit of staring skywards whenever he was not in-flight. Restless, he paced around the area, his worry growing more apparent the longer he tread the earth in unsteady, hurried steps. At Hardwire’s quip, he jerked his head over to the slender NAIL and grimaced.

“Yeah, well, in hindsight that was an obvious error,” Skyshark muttered, looking around. “Providence still took him out somewhere, right?”

Rider had kept himself in his room during the evening, busy with dinner and his studies. When he could no longer force his eyes to focus on the jumble of letters and punctuation in front of him, Rider closed the book and leaned back in his chair. With the lights in his room finally shining through a darkening night, Rider still felt restless where he sat; he wasn’t tired enough to sleep yet. Finding himself in solitude, he decided to make for the forest and to meet his big friends. Quickly putting his arms through the sleeves of a light jacket, and leaving his bags at home, Rider descended the flight of stairs and slipped through the door. Streetlamps illuminated his quiet flight through the sidewalks until he disappeared through the treeline to the forest, and from there he knew the way by heart. He paused when he heard the approach of a pair of other robots. He recognized the gold lights of Providence, and by his side, the fiery orange of Geardust.

***

Providence neared the outer limits of town when he slowed his pace, and then looked down to see Rider. He motioned for Geardust to also slow down, and knelt down to look at the small human who approached them.

“Rider,” he began softly. “I thought the others were with you. Do you know where they have gone off to?”

Geardust didn’t notice Rider at first, busily looking around as they walked to make sure they disrupted anything or caused any alarm of the locals. He perked up at Providence’s gesture to stop and looked around briefly before seeing Rider down the path ahead. “Hey, Rider!” Geardust called out and waved to the boy. “What are you doing out this late?” he asked after Providence while remaining standing upright, not having the same towering height between himself and the human as Providence did. *** “For a little stroll, I think?” Hardwire said and looked up with a nod to Skyshark. “Strange, my signal is ge-” Hardwire jumped at the sudden cry of Snowblind and a moment later the three workers at the space bridge were tangled up in a small brawl with Lightfall pushing the two away from eachother while the two Decepticons engaged in a match mostly of threats and insults. Snowblind suffered still from his severe systems damage after their recent dire fight out at sea, giving the former sabuteur a short temper and worse mood overall and Boresight seemed to just itch for a fight with everyone, regardless of circumstance. Hardwire reared back, himself, fearing getting involved in his own frail state of recovery.

“Couldn’t focus on studying, and I’m not tired yet,” Rider mumbled. “I wanted to see you guys and see how repairing the space bridge was going.”

“I guess we’ll see soon enough,” Providence supposed with a smile, and pivoted his footing to proceed forwards. At the sudden cry, he quickly strolled over to the rag-tag group of Cybertronians and put his hands on his hips, looking with a sad but approving glance to Lightfall. As always, he had proved a faithful second. Skyshark, meanwhile, hooked his arms underneath Boresight’s and kept him from lunging forward.

“Settle down, Boresight,” Providence admonished sternly. “Snowblind is in no condition to take punishment, and you are scaring Hardwire. Rider is with us too, so it would be best to restrain yourself; if you do not, then I myself will have no choice but to intervene. We will all be better off once we re-establish the connection back to Cybertron.”

The Long Night

@handsofprovidence

—– The evening air of high summer still remained fairly temperate though accompanied with the wind of the coast. The forest still filled with songs of the small birds that still braved the protection of their nests and territories against the giants that had arrived in their home some time ago. Giants that disturbed the trees and dented the earth but otherwise bothered none of the wildlife. A young mother fox called her cubs out of their safe den where she had held out as long as possible until they were grown enough to join her. The air reeked of strange, harsh smells to her and with her cubs in tow she made her quick escape out of the woods. She felt the eyes of a giant on her as she stalked away, quickening her and the cubs’ pace. Hardwire zoomed in closely while watching the little family of foxes leave the area, bodies held low to the ground in apprehension and mouths open and panting while they ran. A small frown formed on his face, one that grew slightly more severe as the noise nearby interrupted his thoughts. “If you ‘accidentally’ blast my hand with that torch one more time I will assemble your limbs in sockets where limbs ought not to be.” “Like it really hurts that bad!” “It does. Look at the finish on my gauntlet, it took me several difficult hours to get that polish to match and now you’ve melted it off around the knuckles because you have the precision of a drunk insecticon.” “Focus.” “You’re just standing around looking at us work.” “Hardly. Had I not been a mediator in this task, you two would’ve made a mess of eachother.” “Right so get your fat hands back in and hold the frame back up so I can set it.” “Now that’s just projection on your part, have you seem the sleek, surgical perfection of my fine tuned servos? I can barely see what I’m doing for your fat nosecone getting in my face.” “Focus.” Hardwire observed the three decepticons Snowblind, Boresight and Lightfall, who apparently acted as mediator, trying to cooperate around the tight space on the undearthed space bridge engine. He held a concerned hand to his chin and side-eyed Skyshark. “They should’ve just waited for my brother,” Hardwire whispered, gently, to the autobot ace. “He’s really small and quite flexible in cramped spaces like that!” Hardwire would’ve worried about his brother’s long absence if it weren’t for the one that accompanied him. However, he realized if they did not return soon, the strain between the decepticons, former or otherwise, would come to a head. Hardwire raised his arm to open in on-board computer to contact either Geardust or Providence but soon heard their steps draw near, along with the warning call of a fox mother to her cubs.

Skyshark felt an untenable itch develop beneath his armor. He stood on his feet for too long, and he made a habit of staring skywards whenever he was not in-flight. Restless, he paced around the area, his worry growing more apparent the longer he tread the earth in unsteady, hurried steps. At Hardwire’s quip, he jerked his head over to the slender NAIL and grimaced.

“Yeah, well, in hindsight that was an obvious error,” Skyshark muttered, looking around. “Providence still took him out somewhere, right?”

Rider had kept himself in his room during the evening, busy with dinner and his studies. When he could no longer force his eyes to focus on the jumble of letters and punctuation in front of him, Rider closed the book and leaned back in his chair. With the lights in his room finally shining through a darkening night, Rider still felt restless where he sat; he wasn’t tired enough to sleep yet. Finding himself in solitude, he decided to make for the forest and to meet his big friends. Quickly putting his arms through the sleeves of a light jacket, and leaving his bags at home, Rider descended the flight of stairs and slipped through the door. Streetlamps illuminated his quiet flight through the sidewalks until he disappeared through the treeline to the forest, and from there he knew the way by heart. He paused when he heard the approach of a pair of other robots. He recognized the gold lights of Providence, and by his side, the fiery orange of Geardust.

***

Providence neared the outer limits of town when he slowed his pace, and then looked down to see Rider. He motioned for Geardust to also slow down, and knelt down to look at the small human who approached them.

“Rider,” he began softly. “I thought the others were with you. Do you know where they have gone off to?”

Providence smiled. “At least I can say with confidence that the honors of being a companion to you are mine, then. And I’m sure Hardwire will be overjoyed to see his brother return to him as well.”

At Geardust’s next question, Providence shook his head. “No, I haven’t heard anything from Cybertron. Disher hasn’t mentioned anything of particular danger to me, and neither has Volver. As far as I am aware, it has been the same as always. I wouldn’t think that they would contact me unless they needed something, though now that you mention it, I haven’t really taken the initiative to check in on them, either. One moment...”

Providence’s gold prongs pulsed with light. And then he blinked. “Curious,” he murmured quietly. “I’m not getting a signal from all the way out here. Maybe it’s the cloaking field that Snowblind set up. Let’s head back to Rider’s town, and I will try again there...”