[Mostly Open] So we'll press, and press 'til you can't take it anymore!

[groupiedrifter]

CHARACTERS: Precursors and you. And Eventually Newton. Hopefully!
LOCATION: A holding room in Ximilia Station.
DATE: Est. two days post-mission, after the kaiju is defeated and the orb is retrieved.
CONTENT: The precursors are revealed — and are finally removed from Newt's mind.
WARNINGS: Possession and the bodily autonomy issues that come with that. More will be added if necessary!

Closed and opened starters will be added as I go, which will be announced on plurk! But if you don't use plurk or would rather keep an eye out by email/tracking, feel free to use the tracking option and mark to receive notifs any new top level comments posted to this log! The log will involve an open starter to visit the precursors where they're cuffed/contained in the room, so stay tuned.

Also no rush once the open starters are posted!

Feel free to focus on the player plot log first and come back to this later.

CLOSED STARTER | THE DOCTOR
DARKLING'S TOP LEVEL | WHILE NEWT WAS SLEEPING...
OPEN STARTER | THE PRECURSORS, REVEALED
CLOSED FINAL CONCLUSION | THE PRECURSORS, REMOVED
OPEN PROMPTS | NEWTON GEISZLER'S RETURN

Comments

[aurable]

[ There had been a sense welling up inside of Drift since Scorpion's Bend that he had no words for, only a lingering doubt that persisted like a bad smell. An animal circling the edge of a clearing on the hunch of a hunch of predators hiding in the dark. Newt had been getting progressively more agitated but conversely quieter. Drift hadn't said anything but believed Newt to be acting like a man putting his affairs in order. That should have raised a parade of red flags, but there had never been enough time.

— There is never enough time in the universe. Drift knew this, but the lesson never sticks until the other boot drops.

When Drift finally appears, he arrives as a man, but not entirely. When he approaches the thing in Newt's body, a large silhouette fills the room from behind. 'Drift' entered while Drift stalked just outside — just in case. ]

So

[ He started evenly, smoothing the front of his button-down. ]

How will this go? I'm expecting either an unhinged speech about the 'rightful dominion of a higher species beyond my feeble comprehension,' or whatever roundabout and nonsensical humble bragging you types take for engaging repartee or some bullshit victory lap.

I'm older than the other one. I'm seldom surprised.

[groupiedrifter]

[Now that Drift's back to normal in the Ximilia, with the precursor's mental barrier down? The aura in this room is smothering, much like a house left to decay with everything inside. Whatever Newton may be feeling in this moment is completely shrouded in it — if there's even any semblance of Newton left in this place. They're hardly interested in letting him loose any time soon... Best to just let him sink to the bottom of the lake and drown rather peacefully, don't you think?

They tap their finger on the armrest, discontented, because they've been forcibly bound at the shoulders as well — all because they had torn the IV drip from Newton's vein with their teeth not long before. There are still dry specks of blood on the chair and floor from the unpleasant event.]

... Oh, we're sure you can comprehend it very well. We're cut from similar enough cloths.

So, how many have you killed in your long life? We only got a full scope of the grumpy one's sins against humanity and his own.

[They apparently would love nothing more than to keep the conversation on the sins of others.

Besides, it's far more interesting to them.]

[aurable]

[ If decay had a color, it would be the sickly, indescribable hue that haloed around the haunted ruin that had been Newton Geiszler, pulsating like an open infection left to fester. Drift distantly marveled at how they kept themselves hidden for so long, slithering under everyone's noses behind a friendly face.

—Drift's true shadow shudders and slides out of view. He's disgusted and almost disoriented by the din of reckless cruelty and death emanating from the room. ]

I turn into a car, and you're backseat driving in my friend. At least I showed up to my atrocities.

[ Metal scraps on the tile as Drift drags a folding chair propped against the wall and unfurls it with a sharp thrust of his arm before setting it down opposite the thing with an echoing thud. ]

Honestly? I lost count after two million years, but I was a more ground-level monster—a traditionalist. Shot my own brothers in arms point-blank, mowed down anyone trying to run, soldier or civilian. I started with assassinations before graduating to strip-mining planets and spearheading campaigns that lasted longer than some civilizations that are lost to time, thanks in part to me. And, honestly? I wasn't even in the top running for the worst among the leadership.

[ Drift starts to rummage through his jacket with an almost offensive casualness. ] Does Newt like musicals? You're freeloading, so I'd assume you know if he's ever seen Annie Get Your Gun. You should consider a number when trying to have a pissing contest with an ex-Decepticon: "Anything You Can Do, I Can Do Better."

I mean, God, at least when we got booted from Earth, it was because it was dealt with in-house by our own. [ Drift finds what he was looking for and shakes a crushed paper carton ] Do you want a smoke? I think we should have a smoke.

[groupiedrifter]

... You're an odd little creature.

[A pause.]

Well. Maybe not little. [But young enough to them.] One with such potential to achieve so much, considering you've already gotten your whistle wet with the taste of power... We'd love to see the kind of carnage you could achieve with another billion years.

[They consider the crushed paper carton, cocks their head in interest before shrugging in that hospital gown that McCoy had placed over their naked torso — now healed of scrapes and bruises, mostly, with tattooed arms on full display. The very type of creature that had wreaked havoc on the crew, decorating Newton's limbs... He'll be so upset to look at them now.

It brings them some satisfaction.]

We wouldn't mind a smoke; unfortunately, our hands are a little tied at the moment.

[They jingle the cuffs that keep them attached to the chair.]

[aurable]

I've been called worse. Always nice to chat with senior citizens.

[ Drift reaches into a another pocket for a lighter. A click, the raw smell of butane, and then a hiss as blue sparks into orange.

Words hang in the air. A slender coil of white smoke cuts a gossamer line between them as it slowly rises from the narrow red point of its burning center. Drift lets the cigarette roll between his fingers for a moment, ] Not worth it, honestly. You see one liquidation of a system and incalculable loss of life, and you've seen 'em all.

[ The smoke starts to build, Drift wonders if those eyes can still sting. ]

Don't worry, [ Turning the cigarette around, not feeling the burning end so close to the heel of his palm, Drift eases it passed chapped lips. ] I've got you covered.

[ Another dead silence passes between them — inhale, exhale, and smoke gets in their eyes but they do not feel it. ]

I feel sorry for you. Not in the sense where I'm supposed to feel morally superior for offering sympathy to the unrepentant, no. [ Drift shakes his head and looks at the thing wearing familiar, painted skin and feeling his age. ]

I bet you barely even remember why you're doing this.

[groupiedrifter]

Please. We're hardly senior citizens when we're capable of living an eternity.

Is there such a thing as old then? Or are we going by human metrics eternally?

[They watch Drift with predatory eyes, the kind that say they would turn on him in a heartbeat if they could; they'd smash him to pieces, use the scraps of his cybertronian body to build something new, something interesting to them. There's no Newton Geiszler there. Not when he's shoved so far down, left in a heap.

But there's a strange static in Drift's earpiece as they smoke their offered cigarette. Low, soft static that sounds eerie close to breathing. The precursors carry on, unawares.]

Mmm, yeah, you got us there. We only remember as far back as when we finally harnessed the power behind a hivemind. But once we got it going, there was no forgetting. No disagreements. No individuality to get in the way of a well-greased machine.

You should try it sometime.

[The strange, broken noise in Drift's ear persists.

And then, so so softly, nearly drowning completely in it, Newton's voice whispers:

"Don't... give them... my lucky cigarettes..."]

[aurable]

You and I know we never speaking in human metrics.

[ The thing hiding in the shadow of Newt's skin could stare at him all it liked — Drift felt a surprising amount of nothing when faced with what had been stalking their rank and file. ]

I am so sorry. [ He said, and reached out to cup the thing's scabbed and terrible face wearing the guise of his friend, stroking his thumb along a familiar jawline. ]

You are on the precipice of failure, my friend. And what have you to show for it? You'll have to go soon...whimpering back into the dark but maybe inflicted on some other mind to do what you cannot. You are shockingly evil, and indifferent to human life despite your repeated failures. You really think I have room to grow?

[ Drift gently reached out and plucked the cigarette back before burning it to a red stub and grinding it beneath his heel into the ground. ] And I really do feel sorry for you. Please, [ Drift faced the beast and stolidly met its pretadory gaze. ]

Ssh When you're gone, and you will be gone, please think of me.

[groupiedrifter]

[They jerk their chin away from Drift's hand, disgust in their eyes.

Don't touch me with your lesser body, the look says. Newton's disgusting human form is already something they're forced to tolerate; they'd rather not feel the kindness of some species wearing a ghoulish suit of human skin, composed of data or otherwise.

The cigarette leaves them, and they quietly pine for the stench of it already.

Or, well. Newton's body does. They hate to be in such an easily swayed form, so allured by things that are created to kill them. Cigarettes are just another example.]

... Indifferent to plenty more than just human life, Drift.

We'll think of the eternally cursed Cybertronian people, when we decide who to send our soldiers to next for yet another war; I'm sure your bodies would make fine batteries for the work we do. [A pause.] And when Newton's gone, will you think of him? Cybertronians don't have fields of flowers dedicated to such lesser beings, so I can't imagine he'll be more than a passing thought.