foolishwren | 70. [DREAM/DREAM/DREAM/DREAM]

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70. [DREAM/DREAM/DREAM/DREAM]

_{[So while the rest of Johto alternately panics, cries, or rushes around trying to capture as many of the soulstealing insects as possible, there are dozens of souls floating around in that dream limbo, drifting in and out of each other's slumbering thoughts and visions. Whether it's nightmarish flashbacks or just those dreams where you're at school taking a really hard test, and then Dracula shows up, and then everybody's naked ... anything is possible when it comes to what people see in their sleep.]

[But what appears in the darkness in this particular spot in the spaceless, shifting mass of dreaming souls... is a door.]

[It's old, and covered with boards and bolts, rusted near-through in some places. The lock is broken-- mangled and half-melted and wrenched out of the keyhole. The only thing on it that doesn't look ancient is a scrap of torn notebook-paper that's taped up on it at roughly eye-level. It reads only a single phrase:]}

Fear of blood tends to create fear for the flesh.

_{[More importantly, though... the door is ajar. Through the gap come the scents of rust and metal-- and something organic, fleshy-- and a low, deep hum of industrial machinery. It's not a door that anyone in their right mind would want to go through. ... But for anyone who may have stumbled this far into the dreams of their fellow lost souls, either in flight from some other nightmare or just pure, wandering curiosity... there's just no other place to go but through the door.]}

_{[Go on. Open it. After all.... it's only a dream.]}

[ooc: SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG, GUYS. Thanks for being patient! If you commented on that planning post, there's something spooky planned for your character to do here so please feel free to tag or not tag as it pleases you!]

~*~

[ooc: This is the IC post for what was announced over here! Even if you didn't comment there, feel free to participate! I'm still happy to whip up Silent Hill scenarios for folks!]

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[Watching her pick the contents of her pockets is like watching Ratchet at his specimen tables. How can one person possibly need such an eclectic collection of... junk? The bullets made sense. Nothing else did.]

[Though, had he been more in-tune with his human comrades, he probably would have known what exactly he was looking at. And then understood.]

Watch it. This 'walking junkyard' can still take a few faceplates.

[Yes, that's right. Take a few faces. Optimus had to learn it from somewhere -- although Ironhide hasn't seen that part of his timeline, yet. He doesn't sound angry, though. He's too used to dealing with attitude. His most recent student was practically made of it. And so was Cliffjumper.]

Noticed that. A theme park where?

_{[Heather hadn't been a big fan of carrying loads of junk around in her pockets once, either! Her pocketknife and some cash, and she was good to go! ... Then Silent Hill had happened. No pockets? YOU LOST. Do not pass Go, do not collect $200.]}

Hmph...

_{[Stuffing the mess of seemingly-random bits and pieces back into their respective holding places, Heather bites her lip briefly in indecision. ... But it doesn't last long. He was HERE and that meant she couldn't dance around the truth. At least not as much as she often did in Johto.]}

Maine. Rural. Way out in the boonies. An old historical town that hardly anybody except historians and honeymooners've heard of. S'called Silent Hill.

_{[... And then, after a brief pause, she adds--]}

My hometown.

[But why so many keys? He will admit, he eyes them. They look more like scrap metal, and it's been a while since he had the chance to restock his ammunition supply. Not to mention... heal up the gaping hole in his chest armor.]

[The name earns a blink, and a scowl. It's not in his databanks, and, if it was in rural Maine, it should be. Unless the maps he'd downloaded had been completely off.]

Yeah... never heard of it. Not in any of my databases.

[Her hometown? Her 'bad neighborhood'? Another slow look around -- and she really wasn't kidding. Their new prison was a true improvement, as far as he could tell.]

[Unfortunately, tact isn't something he has to spare. When he speaks again, it's direct, and blunt as a rusty spoon. As usual, pretty much.]

... Your hometown looks worse than mine.

[And Megatron had worked Metrotitan over good. Corpses hanging from the buildings and everything.]

_{[Hey, not everybody can just smash through doors like the Kool-Aid Man, okay? Sheesh! Heather's tough, but she's only human!]

[She waves a hand, slightly dismissively.]}

S'all right... honestly, I kinda figured that'd be the case. Your Earth is probably a little different than mine... seems to be the case with a lot of the worlds people are from... _{[And it's kind of a relief to hear that Silent Hill doesn't exist in every world... even the ones that shared most everything else.]

[The second comment actually makes her snort. It might be blunt, but hey, it's the truth! And it's not like there's any love lost between Heather and this place... well, from Heather's end, anyway.]}

That doesn't surprise me. S'not always like this... but then, far's I'm concerned, 'this' is the only thing that matters. _{[You couldn't pay Heather to venture back to even the normal Silent Hill, the one on the surface that most people saw, never knowing or feeling everything that lurked, just a thin layer of reality away... but then, she supposed she didn't HAVE to be paid... she seemed to get dragged back here in her dreams often enough, whether she wanted to be or not.]}

Look, I'm gonna come out of the building, all right? Don't-- uh, go anywhere.

Hmnf. Probably.

[Especially if the Autobots and Decepticons aren't brawling across Egypt in her world. Someone had to have heard about that little escapade, after all.]

[He frowns at her comment, looking around again. Personally, he doesn't see anything important. Unless the girl has a secret passion for rust that she never let on about. If that was so, he'd have to show her his right foot. That canine and its lubricants... eugh.]

What is so important about this place? Hmn?

[An empty desert was more important than this place, it seemed like. But at her request, he nods, and turns his attention back to their surroundings. Empty as it looked, he didn't want to let his guard down too much.]

_{[Well, it's not about passion so much as survival... if a restaurant gives you food poisoning, you're probably going to want to avoid it even if it's just fine for everybody else... which, as far as Heather can tell, is mostly true for Silent Hill... although you didn't have to know about the Otherworld to know that there was still something wrong with this place. People could still pick up on it...]

[She emerges from the doorway a few seconds later, picking her way down the narrow stairs with some difficulty-- it wasn't particularly obvious while she was flailing around in the store, but she's moving with a bit of a limp.]}

It's ... a really long story. ... And not a very nice one, m'fraid.

Unless you're a horror enthusiast.

[And by then, Ironhide has crouched down, kneeling by the stairs, despite protesting joints. The squeak and grind of them was probably audible for a good distance around them. He'd get them looked at... if there were anyone around to actually do that.]

[But it doesn't seem like she's fairing all that well either. He studies her, one knee to the ground, his elbow resting on the other. Both cannons are still unfolded, clearly on display.]

Stories from 'bad neighborhoods' rarely are. Probably heard a lot worse.

[He waves a hand toward her.]

What happened to you?

_{[Hooooooly shit is he huge. It takes every ounce of willpower in Heather's being not to instinctively shy away-- under normal circumstances, that probably wouldn't be the case, but here.... here, there's just no mode but survival-mode... and she's not used to seeing any friendly faces here. But NOPE. Ironhide is a friendly face! ... Or a-- ... well-meaning face. Yeah.]

[She wrinkles her nose as she makes it to the bottom of the steps, reaching out a hand to clasp the railing tightly as she hops down from the last one with a wince.]}

Well, no offense're anything, I mean... I have no idea what life was like back on the Planet of the Giant Metal People or wherever, so I guess I have no right to say 'you probably haven't', but .... you probably haven't.

_{[Of course, she could be a little biased...]}

I took a spill a little while ago, s'all. Was trying to end a conversation with a really annoying local and he didn't take it too kindly.

_{[She leans down to sort of... irritably pound a fist on the uncooperative leg, because... hitting yourself totally fixes injuries. Then she looks back up at the autobot, actually taking in the details now that he's not just a pair of headlights blaring down at her through the ceiling like somebody pointing a flashlight into a fishbowl.]}

... Holy crap, you really do have cannons.

[If she thinks he's huge, she should see some of the others. Decepticons especially tended to be massive. Then again... maybe he is a little big by some standards. At least, with his battle mask retracted, he just looks grumpy, rather than set-to-kill.]

[One of those heavy hands lowers, hanging around her height, in case the girl needs something to hold onto.]

... Remind me to tell you what Megatron's favorite thing to do to prisoners was. Cybertron was a planet of rust and death after he began the war.

[It's said with no small amount of bitterness, or anger. He rolls his shoulders, looking at her again, and nodding. It must not be that bad, if she's walking around -- but he's no doctor. He has no idea.]

[The mention of cannons though... that makes his optics light up. He straightens, holding up one arm and flexing his hand. Molten blue light flickers to life in the barrel of the massive gun.]

Yeah. I do. Shall I show you them?

_{[It's pretty safe to say that this whole idea of Things Too Big For Me to Kill is a little unpleasant for Heather to wrap her mind around-- size is already something she never had on her side, what with being the World's Littlest God-Killer and all that. She's gotten somewhat used to (and proud of) being tough enough to take down whatever got in her way despite being a skinny little snip of a human being. It was a bit of an ego-boost, really. ... So the thought of robots the size of the Chrysler building? ... AHAHAHAHAHAAAAaaaaaaahhhh nope. Not something she wants to go up against any time soon-- which might be a little obvious by the way she skitters backwards a little when he lowers his hand, before relaxing and tentatively putting one of her own hands on it. DUDE it's the size of a wide-screen TV, this is wild.]}

Sounds like a good bedtime story... _{[Her sarcasm is obvious, there-- she's sure it's not pleasant, whatever it is.... but right now? CANNONS. FUCK YEAH. She actually grins up at him broadly.]}

Be my guest.

Can you like-- blow something up? Dude, please say you'll blow something up.

Only if you like nightmares.

[Of course, nightmares are sort of easy to work around when your brain works like a robot's. But he understands the concept readily enough. And talk of Megatron is always something that can be skipped over in favor of better, brighter things.]

[Like cannons.]

[He straightens up slowly, joints grinding together with a painful, grating sound. A result of coming here straight after battle, with no medical attention. He regards her with a bemused expression, like she's just asked him something ridiculous.]

Hmnf. Can I blow something up? Can I? All Spark...

[Despite how cranky the comment is, he steps away a few paces, glancing around until he spies a good target -- some rusted shack. Maybe it was a ticket booth, or a snack stand at one point. But that's irrelevant. It's not as big as he'd like, but it's something.]

Get behind me.

[It's an order, one he damn well expects to be obeyed. Some flying shrapnel from a man-made structure won't faze him much, but she's small and squishy. While he waits, he sets himself, lifting his arms, and aiming. Targeting sights flash over his vision, and he nods.]

[The cannons begin to whirl, barrels glowing molten blue and orange.]

WILL do, cap'n. _{[Heather's not the biggest fan of following orders, but she's not a moron. And given the size of those things? She definitely does not wanna be in front of them when they go off. This is basic self-preservation we're talking here.]

[Skirting his leg, she shuffles behind it, though she can't help but lean out slightly to watch the mechanisms come to life, with an impressed 'whoa'. What she wouldn't give to have had those on that fateful night in this place...]}

[Only when she's in position, safely behind him, does Ironhide even consider firing those huge guns. And he does so, in quick succession, one right after the other.]

[Light literally explodes from the barrels of the weapons -- also orange, and blue -- streaking toward the shack with unerring speed. Recoil that would have likely knocked a man back several dozen feet only makes Ironhide's arms jerk slightly.]

[The shack erupts in an blast of light and sound and bits of building material. It's safe to say that when the inevitable dust cloud clears, there is nothing left but burning rubble.]

[... and one satisfied Autobot.]

_{[... Heather is silent.]

[There is something quite-- ... no, incredibly satisfying about watching a piece of this accursed place, no matter how small, explode into a brightly-colored cloud of smoke and dust. It's like blowing up the mailbox of some creep who bullied you, except on the grandest scale imaginable.]

[As the smoke starts to clear, revealing the remains of what was once Creepy Rusty Shack No. 3456, Heather actually throws her arms up and lets out a wild whoop.]}

Aw, YEAH! That was AWESOME!

_{[Ironhide, you now have a fan for life.]}

[The big old 'bot looks pleased with this result. If it were possible for his chest to puff up with pride, it would. Instead, he just hefts an arm to proudly examine his cannon.]

[He would have liked to have blown an enemy to pieces, but taking down a structure never stops being somewhat thrilling. At least... if no one's inside it.]

Been far too long since I did that.

[It's like finally being able to work a muscle after sitting around on it for a week. Or longer, in this case. He can't look happy enough about this.]

Shows your hometown who is boss, hmn?

_{[None of the enemies around here are quite big enough to justify use of cannons, but hey, at least there's plenty of junky buildings... nobody's even using those.]

[Ironically less jumpy now that she's seen him blow something to kingdom come, Heather scoots back around in front of him, grinning so widely that her smile probably glows in comparison to the rest of her grungy face.]}

Dude. That was like-- holy crap, what I would not GIVE to be able to do that to this place. _{[Some girls swoon over hot celebrities and vacations to tropical islands. Heather swoons over the thought of being able to fire giant blasts of concentrated awesome at stuff she doesn't like.]}

Can you like-- OH MAN, can you do that again, but to something specific?

[He crouches again when she moves around to his front. He really needs to get his joints looked at, the movements are getting stiffer the more he puts his body through. Stupid sand. Stupid Decepticons. Stupid Ratchet not being here.]

[Her enthusiasm is familiar, though. And he can't help but smirk, the expression shifting worn faceplates into new patterns.]

The soldiers felt the same way, when they saw me at work. Could not blame them. Or you. They are impressive.

[The old timer isn't usually one to boast, except where his babies are concerned. He loves his weapons, and it shows.]

Can I shoot something specific? Yeah. What is it?

_{[She grins wider at the boasting-- she can't exactly fault him. If she could blow shit up like that? She'd be showing it off at every opportunity. Oh, you need something from the fridge? Here, let me get that for y-- KABOOM.]}

It's way over on the other side, across the park-- here, I'll show you.

_{[She starts to walk-- as quickly as she can with the sore leg, anyway. ... Which is probably frustratingly slow for Ironhide, unfortunately.]}

It just-- needs to be blown up. Urgently. _{[Because she hates it.]}

[He watches her start to go, before he grunts, and lowers a hand in front of her, to stop her from getting any further away. They'll never get anywhere if he has to limp after her.]

[His hand flattens against the ground.]

Even with this hip, I would be faster than you are. Get up.

[If he sounds snappish about it, it's only because he's... slightly embarrassed to be offering. This is not something Ironhide generally does. Bumblebee, sure. Optimus, definitely. Not him.]

_{[She startles backwards slightly when his hand is suddenly lowered, then looks up, a little confused for a second or two. ... Then realization dawns on her face and she mumbles an "Oh." before, not entirely without trepidation, she steps up onto the offered palm.]}

Right, heh... you can probably like, take five steps and just GET there...

_{[She is going to just totally chill and ride a giant robot. This is either the weirdest or the best dream ever.]}

[Once she's there, he doesn't waste any time in hauling her up to one shoulder. If he needs his hands for anything, or his cannons, she'll be safer up there. And not... incinerated by cannon fire.]

Hmnf. I wish.

[He heads off -- that way! And maybe he would get there in five steps, if every other step wasn't punctuated with a limp.]

_{[Yeah, Heather's pretty happy about being non-incinerated. Life is generally better when one is something other than a pile of ash. Piles of ash don't get to have any fun.]

[When he lifts her to his shoulder, she can't help but let out a startled (and sort of giddy) "Whoa!" It's like riding one of those elevators that go up so fast that you almost feel like you left your guts behind on the ground floor for a moment. Except it's not an elevator, it's something's hand. And that is insane.]

[Once up there, she carefully steps onto his shoulder, bracing her boots on the slick metal and thanking whatever company manufactured these boots that they've got good grips. All the same, she grabs onto whatever hold is most convenient, just to be safe... she's not a fan of falling from this height.]}

Okay, so its-- uh-- a little to the right-- there.

That old-looking mansion. Think you can hit that?

_{[She's pointing, of course, at her old pal the Borley Haunted Mansion. Because oh would she like to see that place reduced to a smoking crater.]}

[There's a good few crests on his head, in case she needs something non-mobile to hold onto. His audio receptors cycle every so often, his facial expressions twitch his faceplates around... Yeah, that's probably the best place to put a hand you didn't want to be crushed by accident. Barring that, there's probably a good scar or two on his shoulder itself to hold onto.]

[He swings around to face the indicated building... and just... stares. Is she serious? Can he hit that? That's like asking if a human can breathe air.]

... Can I? Hmnf. What do I look like? An automated turret?

[And, once again, Ironhide prepares to take out a building. It's going to need more firepower than just the shack, but he certainly has it in him. Lifting his arms, he glances at her with his good optic. This close up, the damage to the other is particularly nasty-looking... she could probably even see the half-melted shutters twitching.]

You should get down. Climb down a couple plates.

[There's a few good ridges in his back she could use. And... of course, more scars.]

_{[Although she doesn't say anything, she can't help but sort of... wince sympathetically at the sight of the torn metal gracing that eye. Could things not made of flesh and blood feel pain? She never really thought they could, but... then again, she'd never met something made of metal that had conversations and used sarcasm and talked of war and torture and dead comrades before...]

[But the suggestion snaps her back to attention.]}

Right! Uh--

_{[Okay, now to find footholds-- fortunately, looked like there were plenty. Somewhat stiffly, she starts to shakily make her way down, bracing her feet against the ridges and feeling sort of like a spider must feel when it's climbing up a human being. ... She just hopes he's not the type to SWAT. Because that could get UGLY.]}

[Oh, it hurt. It still sort of hurt. But he's become adept at ignoring the pain of old injuries. He sort of had to, given the circumstances surrounding the war.]

[He turns his head to watch her, waiting until she's safely ducked down behind his broad back, before turning his attention back to the building. He can feel her clambering around. There's an urge to shake his shoulders, but he firmly squashes it down.]

[Then. He sets himself. Checks his targeting sights...]

[And opens fire.]

[The recoil from each shot shakes his big frame, but his aim doesn't waver. Ironhide's been doing this long enough to know exactly how much each shot is going to offset his sight, and compensates accordingly. Rounds chamber, fire, and reload in a smooth succession, until the building begins to collapse in on itself in a pile of fire and rubble.]

[Through it all, the old Autobot just grins.]

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djfkds I'm sorry for this

XD Eh? Sorry for what?

For the cranky bluntness |D

PSHAAAAW I LOVE CRANKY BLUNTNESS, CARRY ON!

VERY WELL

:Db

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