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| - The ridgeline of the Andes looks down over all of South America like a watchdog. High above the rest of the world, this place seems detatched, lonesome. Clouds dance at eye level or below, and here only a few hardy plants and animals have the will to survive. The wind blows heavily here, threatening to uproot everything and carry it all away. The eagle soars and allows the wind to hold it aloft as it surveys the kingdom of the sky. Obvious exits: Northeast leads to Amazon River Basin. South leads to Santiago Foundries. East leads to Brazil. West leads to South Pacific - South American Coast. Fly Patchwork has arrived. The driving is terrible in the Andes Mountains. It veers from insane to suicidal, depending on the pathway. It isn't the exact last place one Autobot would want to talk to another Autobot, but it is on the list somewhere. That's where Nightbeat is here. The Porsche is parked, and Muzzle circles around the outside of the Porsche, inspecting him for damages, muttering, "We have conferences rooms, Nightbeat. They have chairs. Aren't up a madman's drive." Patchwork had come where she was told, though she didn't entirely understand why they were coming to the Andes, but shes howed up all the same. She's made her way far more slowly, however, and so the SUV is only now arriving. Porsche 959 starts without preamble, as soon as Patchwork hoofs it up the mountain, "So I am given to understand that you have been in an unusual and unfamiliar situation for the past few weeks, Patchwork. Is that, in your assessment, correct?" Muzzle leans against Nightbeat's driver side door and stuffs his hands in the pockets of his trenchcoat - it's freezing up here! Patchwork could have driven, but that would have just left her with branches in her grillplate. Hunkering down next to the Porsche, the medic hesitates before she nods slowly. "Yes...that would be right..." Porsche 959 suggests, though it is really more like an order, "Start at the start. How did you get... well. Where /did/ you go?" Sure, he's read the reports, but he wants details from an eye witness. He doesn't want the reports vomited back at him. Patchwork shifts her weight slowly before she carefully sits down. She takes a moment to eye Muzzle for a moment before she offers him a brief, faint smile, that disappears againa s quickly. It's an odd state for the Femme who's usually known as being overly bubbly. "The past. Back to Sentinel Prime's time." she offers, with a slight shrug. "To Iacon." Muzzle offers Patchwork a faint smile back, despite himself. As soon as the debriefing is over, he's making Nightbeat buy him a Hot Toddy, and that is that. The Porsche observes that Patchwork is loking less bubbly than usual, and hepauses, recalling back... It takes a while. Information gets shuffled away and compressed, when it isn't being used regularly. Nightbeat's a bit old, and while he may have photographic memory, it does take him a while to think back to his younger days, when Sentinel Prime was alive. Nightbeat starts hesitantly, "Wait a diode-shorting minute..." Patchwork settles her hands in her lap, eyeing Nightbeat as he tells her to wait. "What?" she inquires, carefully, as her head turns slightly to the side and she studies the Porche. Porsche 959 transforms, and now a robot, the detective points a finger at Patchwork, "I remember you! Oh-ho, those memories were compressed and shuffled off to low-access storage. I..." He grimaces. "...was totally off the mark with my theories." He rubs the back of his head and sighs. "Right. So. The start. Any idea how you ended up in the past? What were you doing?" The puzzle pieces of Porsche 959 rearrange into the hard-boiled Autobot detective, Nightbeat! Patchwork focuses on the finger before she shifts backwards, following the arm up to the body and then to the face of the detective. "They weren't that important. Hardly a blip on the radar, I'm sure. We...tried to keep it that way. We didn't want to change anything..." she explains with a shrug before she sighs. "I don't know how we ended up there. We were about to fight the Decepticons, next to this...spire, and...then we were there." Nightbeat insists, frustrated, "The smallest details can be of the greatest important! I was so blind. Hmm." He rubs his chin. "I wonder what happened to old Signal Light and the datapad he nabbed off Fairway." Nightbeat shakes his head. "No matter. A... spire, you say? Look, I know the Decepticons were trying to /steal/ Nebulos." His voice is nearly a growl; his head has family on Nebulos! "How did we get from that to you going for a jaunt through time and space?" Patchwork lowers her optics from Nightbeat and offers another slight shrug. "I don't know. I'm a medic, not...not smart and observant. You should ask someone like Ultra Magnus, or Fairway. I don't think Grimlock would be much help." she admits at the end before looking back up. "And I was busy trying to make sure Andi survived." Nightbeat sighs. He should have expected this. Most people make lousy witnesses. As Nightbeat himself has proved, he himself made a lousy witness. "Okay, so Fairway, Ultra Magnus, Ms. Lassiter... I'll be sure to hunt them down. But for now, the spotlight's on you, little miss. All right. So you found yourself back when Sentinel Prime was boss," and what a lousy boss Sentinel Prime was, "What next?" "Um...we ended up with the Autobots. Sentinel Prime was over energised, as usual...he...flirted with me, but then yelled at me when I told him the truth about where we came from, and then he tried to squish Andi. The Cons went to the Cons there, of course..." Patchwork huffs a sigh, and shakes her head. "I really don't know that much, Nightbeat. Sort of like I didn't know much then, either." Nightbeat chews his lip. "Mmyep. Overenergised. Mackin' on the honeys an' makin' 'em cry. Sounds like Sentinel Prime, all right." He crosses his arms and paces, looking down at the view. "So... how'd you get back, anyway?" "Straxus helped us, since that mean Prime wouldn't. I am -so- glad we have Rodimus." the femme adds, mostly for her own benefit, as she considers the question before she looks back up to NIghtbeat. "He found some...mirror portal thing. Grimlock broke it with his tail and poof! We were back." Patchwork nods a bit as she leans into the lowered voice, her reaction natural when someone all but whispers. "I didn't know Optimus, really...only Sentinel, and I -did not- like him, at all." she admits before she pulls back and nods, again. "Straxus, yes. He wanted us back to our time." Nightbeat rubs his chin thoughtfully. "Now /that/ is a bit worrying." He spreads his hands. "I mean. Decepticons are never up to any good. So there had to be something he'd gain by sending you home. I got a bad feeling about this..." "Maybe. But we couldn't stay there, and the Prime wasn't helping us." Patchwork points out, almost guiltily. "And neither were you, I could add...or anyone else. Except Cinder...he was really nice." That added, she shifts about, twisting onto her knees and resting her aft on her heels. Nightbeat looks sheepish and admits, "I was pretty by-the-book when I was younger, kiddo. Didn't go in for far-fetched stories. Now I know better. The more far-fetched the story, the more likely it is true. Like the Girl Scouts. I just /know/ they're up to no good..." Patchwork snorts softly at the comment about the Girl Scouts, but can't help the faint smile that flits across her features. "Yeah, those cookies..." she agrees quietly before she gives her head a shake. "What happened to Cinder...?" Nightbeat looks a bit fidgety and finally admits, after double-checking his memory banks, "Cinder was reported dead in a shuttle crash." A pause. "I'm sorry." But at least Patchwork sees the true evil inherent in the Girl Scouts! Patchwork doesn't move for a long moment as she's filled in on the fate of Cinder, before her gaze, and chin, both drop. "I liked him." she mutters quietly before she lifts her chin again. "I hope he didn't hurt..." Nightbeat is no good in these kind of situations, when a dame is going to pieces over some sentimental manner. He grimaces and then throws his hands in the air. "I don't know! The report didn't go into detail." Patchwork winces slightly before she squares her shoulders, features hardening. "Sorry." she mutters before she pushes up to her feet. "Did you need anything else...?" Back on track. Nightbeat inquires, "Yeah. Do you feel up for resuming duty, or are you going to need some time to get your head together?" He doesn't say she'll actually get that time, if she does. "I'm fine. Why?" Patchwork inquires, tilting her head slightly to the side as she studies the other Bot for a long moment as her toe scuffs a small gouge (Okay, good sized gorge) in the ground. Nightbeat replies stiffly, "Standard procedure. Going back in time is at least as hostile as being stuck behind enemy lines, I would reckon. I'm seeing some strong emotional reactions outta you over some of the events, anyway." The detective shrugs. Patchwork clenches her jaw before she shakes her head. "Nope, nothing to do with them." she agrees, arms lifting to cross over her chest. Nightbeat points a finger at Patchwork and snaps, "No? Well. I expect I'll find out someday. Muzzle's about to turn blue, and while he'd match me, that ain't good. Dismissed." Stupid Nebulans, getting cold. "I suggest a hot bath...or a fire. Andi seemed to like that when she was cold..." Patchwork suggests, looking back to the Nebulan before she turns, and starts down the same trail she'd came up on. Again. ON foot.
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