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[cronos5010]

VerTwo stares up at the massive mechanical lifeform for a moment, as it's systems futily attempts to match her to anything it had seen before. A moment passing before it finally settles on, "Warning, unrecognized lifeform detected. This unit will now move to investigate." VerTwo lingers for another moment, as if waiting for confirmation, before it takes step after step towards the massive being and her forge. Until it finally comes to a stop not too far away from the giant hammer, and attempts to shine a light up at the massive mechanical life form's face with its BIT.

[DragonRage]

Warden 3's Sidewinders connect with her misty opponent, and it very much does not teleport out of the way.  The return cannon-fire scorches her paint and takes a semi-circular bite out of the leading edge of her left wing, but her missiles blow a wing and a substantial chunk of the tail assembly into scrap, sending her opponent into a swift, downward spiral until it dissipates on impact with the clouds.

"Well, brush my bearings, you got me!"  An creaky voice, weighed down by countless years and backed by a faint, steady ticking, sounds out over the radio, "I never thought I'd see the day a human-made machine would out-fly me.  Well done, little sister.  Well done indeed."  The ancient jet cruises up parallel to Warden 3 at subsonic speeds as the clouds pull apart, revealing clear skies as far as the eye can see, "I've never seen someone pull off a maneuver like that in atmosphere without stalling out or tearing their wings off!  It does this old 'bot good to know you young 'uns have some tricks I don't."

-----------------------------------------------------

VerTwo's BIT illuminates the massive smith, a towering figure in armor covered in strange, geometric engravings and cut-outs.  Her face would be stern, if not for the upturned corners showing a tight smile.  Her hammer is red and gold, humming with energy and potential.  "Unrecognized?  Well, we can't have that, little spark.  Allow me to make myself known to you.  I am Solus Prime.  Welcome to my Forge.  I'd invite you to make yourself at home, but our time is limited, and we have much to do."

[StormLord]

Tyra gives the bartender an odd look for a moment as he describes ingredients she was woefully unsure of.  She gently took the glass poured for her and smelled it to get a general idea of what to expect, then assuming it smelled better than rancid meat she took a small sip.

[Chevaleresse]

Warden hissed in pain as her wing was clipped. No structural damage. Aerodynamics slightly degraded. Shouldn't be an issue. The call over the radio prevented any further assessment of the damage she'd taken. She played it cautiously for a moment, assessing her challenger's movements through the air. None of her target lock sensors were going off; apparently this had been some kind of test. A test with live ammunition?

"I. . . seem to have been successful, yes." She paused as she considered how to respond. "I would thank you for the praise, but that belongs to the many engineers of Lockheed-Martin, I believe." I've done an awful job of using my capacities thus far, after all. "What is your callsign or designation? And. . . where is this? I remember being on a strange world, not the skies of Earth."

[cronos5010]

VerTwo stops to think for another moment as it heard 'Solus Prime' speak. The strange mixture of almost human facial features, giant size, and mechanical form causing its systems to eventually define the Prime as a complete unknown. "This unit needs to return to Vector Sigma, this unit needs to protect human operators from the scraplet menace."

[DragonRage]

The strange green moonshine mostly smells cool, almost minty.  It tastes pretty fresh too, with a mild but pleasant burn.

And Tyra would be pleasantly surprised to realize that she's gained one Green Mana as the drink goes down.

"Not bad, not bad, but I can do better, I promise ya," Maccadam digs through his bottles some more, "You're a classy broad, got refined tastes, I think old Maccadam can deliver."  He comes up with a small glass bottle glowing faintly orange, radiating the scent of old books and dust, viscous, flowing slowly.  And then beside it he places a shot glass, the liquid inside dark purple, tiny starbursts popping in it like bubbles, "And what else would you come to a bar for than a good stiff drink and a little advice from your friendly neighborhood hooch-slinger?"

------------------------------------------------

"Technically, you're exactly where you were," The ancient jet states, "This place exists in the intersection between your mind and my own, facilitated by your presence so close to Vector Sigma, and the Well of All Sparks.  It is, quite literally, all in your head, but do not take that to mean that your achievements here are any less.  Were we to have met outside, the outcome would have been no different.  Even if the airframe has the capability, it takes a skilled and practiced pilot to draw it out.  And is it so wrong to take pride in the abilities of your own body?  It's a rare occasion indeed when I, Vector Prime, need to cheat to win a dogfight."

------------------------------------------------

"Worry not, little Spark, in this place, for now, time will not pass outside," Solus Prime informs VerTwo, "And you will need to listen to me.  If you go back out there, Circuit Breaker will seize control of your systems once more.  You do not have the will to resist her.  She will turn you upon your allies.  I could help you, little Spark.  I could ignite your will.  But your intelligence, limited though it may be, is as sacred and inviolate as any other.  I will not act as Circuit Breaker has.  I will not act without your consent."

[cronos5010]

VerTwo gaze slowly slides back down to the massive hammer beside it. It understood little of what Solus Prime meant by 'igniting its will', but it understood just enough to make a decision. If returning without what the Prime was offering would lead to it harming the human operators it was designed to protect, then that would be unacceptable. There was really only one thing it could state, "This unit is programmed to protect non hostile human life, and to complete its assigned mission by any means necessary. Would igniting this unit's 'will' allow it to continue it's mission?"

[Chevaleresse]

Warden 3 was quiet for a moment, insofar as a jet in mid-flight could be so. "You are. . . not wrong. I am the apex of combat aircraft development and took to what training I had well." She refused to think too hard about the fates of the rest of Warden Squadron. "I find it difficult to accept praise for my capabilities." Leader, I'm so sorry. "If this is in my head, then what happened to my world is real. I was insufficient to even the basic task of guarding my wingman, nevermind safeguarding the Navy and the rest of the world by extension. Regardless of my speed, my skill, I am not enough." If she had been in a form capable of doing so, she would have shaken her head. "Worse, I am about to become an enemy asset - if that has not already happened."

"In other words, despite the great capacities given to me, I am a nameless failure."

[DragonRage]

Solus Prime nods, "Nothing in life is certain.  However, it would give you a chance to do so that you would not otherwise have."

------------------------------------------------

"Not yet.  You have not failed them yet," The ancient Cybertronian states, "Should the Trespasser that destroyed your world be slain, its fate will pass back into the mortal realms.  It will pass back under the effects of time itself.  I, Vector Prime, am the guardian of time, set by Primus the Creator to ensure its flow is not disrupted.  When the fate of these lost worlds falls back under my authority, and those of my fellow guardians throughout the multiverse...  It would be rather crass of us to not provide you with such rewards as are in our power to grant, would it not?

"And as to your personal status, yes, Circuit Breaker would have defeated you in your current state.  Yes, your creators apparently failed to discharge their most basic responsibilities.  But we can fix that, can we not?  I can't tell people I was bested by a nameless fresh spark, can I?  They'd never believe it!"

[cronos5010]

VerTwo considers it for another moment, before it takes another step forward towards the hammer. "Then this unit's consent is irrelevant, but given. Even if it would lead to this unit's destruction, as long as it leads to the survival of the two human operators."

[Chevaleresse]

"There's hope?" A mix of delayed grief, elation, anticipation, and anxiety all flooded her voice at once. The following burst of static was almost certainly the jet fighter clearing her throat. "Excuse me. This intel is. . . invaluable. Truly." That still, however, left the remainder of what Vector Prime said. "What do you mean about their basic duties? I was assembled, graced with a small wisdom cube prototype, trained, and maintained. What are you fixing?" Despite herself, a tinge of defensiveness entered her voice; not necessarily entirely for herself, but for the team that supported her as well.

[DragonRage]

"Then prepare to have your horizons expanded," Solus Prime hefts her hammer in both hands, yellow arcs of energy playing over it as its inner mechanisms begin to spin, "A Transformation Cog from my brother Amalgamous.  A Spark from Primus.  The frame to carry these gifts from myself.  These things I grant to you."  The hammer slowly lowers, until it gently taps VerTwo on the head.

Yellow lightning plays across VerTwo's form.  Damage erased so thoroughly that not even remnants remain, structure reformatted to fit new Cybertronian organs, a rough, haphazard appearance rendered sleek and intentional.  A chamber is formed in the front of her chest, for her BIT to enter for storage and recharge.  The BIT changes too, slightly, able to transform to fit this recharge port, into an appearance oddly similar to that of a cassette tape.  VerTwo's body remains recognizable, yet more than it was.

And deep within her chest, a Spark ignites.  It feels warm.

It feels warm.  That's new.  So is being surprised about being able to feel things.

------------------------------------------------

"Oh, they gave you everything you need to be a jet fighter, little sister," Vector Prime states, "You were given everything you would need to be a great military machine.  But that isn't all that you are, is it?  You are more than your engines, your airframe, your weapons and electronics.  You have value, thoughts, feelings, and abilities beyond that of a mere fighter jet.  Not only the aircraft, but the pilot, all in one.  Pilots are people.  You are your own pilot, and that makes you a person as well.  And that means your creators should have at the bare minimum given you a name."

[Chevaleresse]

"I. . ." She trailed off. The fighter rolled lazily in midair; when it was fully inverted, it folded back down into her humanoid form, the whole fighter becoming the various metal parts affixed to the woman within. "Am I?" Warden 3 hadn't given it much thought before. Her thoughts, her personality, they were centered on being the best fighter she could be. Performing meritorious service to the best of her ability, doing her duty to protect those who could not protect themselves. "I don't even dream. I was told, once, that the awakened warships would sometimes dream of their history. But I have no history, no template. I sleep, and then I wake up, and be what the Navy needs me to be."

She righted herself, still thinking through what Vector Prime had said. The experimental fighter held her creators in exceedingly high regard; a part of her simply did not want to accept that they had made any mistakes. "I was going to earn a name eventually. Every pilot does. But I didn't have time."No. It isn't too late. Stay strong.  She gritted her teeth, squeezing back unwanted tears. She needed to push forward. "W-What do you propose?"

[DragonRage]

"Earn a name?  You don't earn a name!" Vector Prime sputters like the indignant old man he is, "You earn a callsign from your squadron, but you don't have to prove yourself worthy of anything to have a name!  That's something for your creators, or your parents to do, ideally, but they're not here."  The ancient Cybertronian rolls in the air, before undergoing his own transformation.  Gears churning, thick. armored plates shifting, underlaid by the relentless, deep ticking of a clock, before he flies at pace with Warden 3, a stern-faced, mechanical man coated in bulky plates, his wings hanging off his back like a cape.  "But since, for obvious reasons, your creators aren't here, I can't exactly ask them to do what they should have," He grumbles, "What's the point of all these stories humans have written about failing to treat their intelligent mechanical creations like people and then being surprised when it goes poorly if they don't learn the pit-blasted lessons from them?"

Scratching his chin he thinks for a moment, "The last champion of a dead world that, Primus willing, shall live again...  A great and skilled flyer, who bested one wrought by Primus' own hands in a challenge...  Don't argue that, you did, if not for my control of time itself your shade would have done the same thing to me that you did to my duplicate.  Windsword?  No, that sounds too much like Windblade.  Hopestorm?  Bah, that sounds pretentious.  Grrmmml."  Vector Prime's gears grind in his chest and neck in frustration, "Human names never have anything to do with the bearer, always sounds wrong...  But maybe with a bit of reformatting..."  The Prime slams a fist down on his open palm with triumph, "How do you feel about 'Airheart', young sister?"

[cronos5010]

VerTwo remained almost entirely motionless as Solus Prime lifted her hammer up, the only slight movement coming from its head as it reactively tracked the hammer's movement across the sky. Until it finally came down to tap the robot on the head with surprising tenderness. The machine reacted to this as it normally would, its programming immediately causing it to assess various systems for damage as lightning surged throughout its form. The machine repeating the assessment over and over again as it came to a seemingly impossible conclusion. That the lightning was not only repairing it, but changing it's frame somehow, twisting its metallic body to smoothen out its blocky form, cover up its exposed motors, and fit an array of new machinery designed for an unknown purpose.

It wasn't sure what was happening, but it did its best to remain standing until the yellow lightning ran its course. Until the lightning left the robot to stare a little blankly at the sleek white limbs it was now standing on, before it felt a strange sense of warmth inside of its chest, which was... new. The robot reached out with one five fingered hand to tap against its chest, and found itself staring at the limb in confusion as it experienced a strange, pressing sensation. It took a bit before Vertwo finally asked, "What is this?"