{ Action ; 724 Anderson - Morning }

[ Housemates might hear what sounds like a piece of furniture falling over in the master bedroom. Vader all but explodes from the room shortly after, the doorknob banging against the wall. Walking rather stiffly and somewhat bandy-legged, pulling on a spare shirt, he very nearly trips multiple times over his own feet on his furious search through the residence. ]

This can't be, it can't be the same...

{ Action ; Around Mayfield }

[ Kriff this. He's disoriented and afraid and furious. Without the Force his anger isn't a fuel, it's suffocating, but he's pelting hell for leather down the pavement as if he's got a whole squadron of Seps on his tail, gulping air. Anyone in his path might get shouldered out of the way.

Murkhana is still fresh in his mind, the Emperor's orders ringing in his ears, fighting with the abrupt wash of memories that flooded him as soon as he awoke. He hadn't been back in the galaxy more than a few hours, how can so much time have passed here? And Padmé- his wife is gone, an empty shell in a house full of other empty shells. He's failed, again.

Coming to a sudden stop, he presses white-knuckled hands to his temples. Agitated, he releases a noise of frustration, the sound welling up almost to a scream.

Yeah, so... approaching the guy in the midst of a psychotic break might not be the greatest idea. But hey. It's Mayfield. ]

[phone]
Oh, marvelous, it's August again.  My favorite time of the year.

Students, I hope you've been working on your summer assignments.  Adult men, I hope you're prepared to be perfect gentlemen when we all find ourselves floundering in that ghastly hotel.  Anything else to expect this month?  No?  On to business, then.

I'm sure we're all very distracted by talking pony parties and pool parties and platter parties and inpourings of perpetually perplexed new populations, but has anyone made any effort whatsoever to sort out that business from last month or are we still playing the game where we ignore all interesting information in favor of smashing random objects we find in the dairy?  I don't mind that game; of course, quite invigorating, good for the vasculature, but it might be worth trying a different approach at some point in time.  I venture to suggest today, if no one's too busy holding competitions to see who looks the most absurd absent their clothing.

[action, 726 Anderson Lane]
[Susan can be found hanging up black cloaks and other assorted clothing in uniform crepuscular shades around the house where garish green was all there was formerly to see.  A welcome change, in her opinion; she'd missed her wardrobe from home, even if everything looked exactly the same as the black cloak she had commissioned here in Mayfield.

Still, she pauses for a moment as she handles an emerald-green cloak, never worn, hanging in the hall closet since the previous Christmas.  ...It goes back on the rack after a bit.  And she'll only push it back behind the others an inch or two.]

[action, park]
[A rather unusual sight in the park later on that week.  Somehow, Miss Susan the English teacher has been cajoled into reading a nice story for a small group of drones.]

And so, adding conspiracy and first-degree murder to their trespass and property damage charges, Hansel and Gretel pushed the old woman into the oven and ignored her anguished screams as they left the house of gingerbread, naturally taking all of her valuables with them as they went.  With these illicit goods, they reunited with their criminally negligent father, but not, surprisingly, their 'wicked' stepmother, who had mysteriously vanished in the space of the two nights in which the children were gone, leaving the father sole keeper of his property and remaining funds and raising suspicion as to who it was had devised the plan to leave the children in the forest in the first place.

But it doesn't matter, because they all lived happily ever after.

The End.

[The drones seem quite pleased with her recitation, at any rate.]

[Hey Ricardo Street. Someone finally opened his regains from last month's debacle. And truth be told at least one of them is pretty prominent.

In the yard of 502 Ricardo sits a massive statue of Pokey himself right in the center of it. It's outlandishly gaudy and the pride and ego-centrism that must have gone into its construction absolutely radiates off the statue. The stupid thing can probably be seen from blocks away.

Which of course means Pokey has to take care of the dumb thing. Even if he hasn't built it yet he has to admit...it's kind of a nice touch to the yard. Definitely gives it a bit of character. Of course taking care of this giant stupid thing himself is out of the question. That's where his second regain comes in.

Over the week Pokey had been constructing a large pulley system with a small cage that would allow someone to go up to clean the and maintain the statue. That someone appears to be a robot dressed in a maid outfit that seems to be singing to itself as it works.

This isn't to say Pokey has himself been lazy of course. Not at all. He went through the arduous task of getting his own chair and soda as he watches Little Miss Marshmallow work. He tilts his head a bit as he watches the robot clean, before looking up and shouting.]

Hey! You missed a spot!

[And he sighs a bit before sinking back into his chair taking a sip of his drink.

God. He works so hard to keep the things he has nice.]

Action A | Outside 623 Topper Street | Open to all

[Silverbolt wakes up. That might actually be something he should dwell on since he's a robot and doesn't exactly sleep, but that is not what is important. What is important is he's in a small wooden crate that is bit cramp. Also, this isn't Cybertron, which is where he expected to come back online at once the Maximals finished their space journey home. Mostly out of sheer habit, he immediately stands up with wings at the ready and takes in his surrounding.

Of course this means he pretty much shatters the dog house he was in to splinters, but that's not important. No, what's important is that has no clue where he is, this isn't prehistoric Earth nor Cybertron, so he might want to start getting information, and quickly.]

Black Arachnia?! Optimus?! Rhinox? Cheetor?

[There's a slight sigh before he continues.]

....Rattrap?

Hrm, they don't seem to be around, nor is my comm working. This is distressing. What could have happened? We had the Predacons defeated when we left...

Maybe I should try some low profile scouting? At least until I figure things out.

Silverbolt! MAXIMIZE!

[Silverbolt actually seems to strike a dramatic pose, expecting something to happen. Which it doesn't. He holds it a moment before he opens his eyes and looks himself over.]

...SILVERBOLT! MAXIMIZE!

[Again, nothing.]

Okay, I think this has gone from distressing to a major problem...

Action B | Around Town | Open to all

[Well, so much for keeping a low profile. Silverbolt has taken to the skies, flying relatively low, but still above the buildings, taking in the surroundings. At first look it seems like a really big hawk, but closer scrutinizing will reveal it has four legs and a wolf head. Actually, stop and stare too long and Silverbolt will dive and land in front of you.]

Excuse me citizen, but perhaps you can help me! Could you tell me what this place is? Or perhaps where it is in relation to Earth or Cybertron? I seem to have been separated from my comrades, and so far have been encountering nothing but strangeness.

[Yeah, a flying wolfhawk is talking to you. In a slightly dramatic, but polite, tone. Typical day in Mayfield, right?]

Phone | Later that evening | Not at all filtered

Greetings citizens of Mayfield! My name is Silverbolt, and it seems I have been captured and trapped here like the rest of you. I am not sure what scoundrel is behind this, but fear not, no matter how bleak things may seem, goodness always prevails!

I may be here without my fellow Maximals, but I promise to do my best to help anyone in trouble as I get to the bottom of this evil scheme!

I'm not sure where to start, but the important thing to remember is to never give up hope! As long your spark is online, you can always keep trying to attain your goals! So worry not, for tomorrow is another bright day!

[ Action, 627 Topper ]

[ Uh yeah, so Steve is waking up next to a drone for the first time and falls out of bed because hey, wasn't he in 2012 a second ago? And wasn't he, you know, taller? He's going to do the right thing this time, which is not freak out and tear a hole through the wall, probably because it would kill him to do so.

Instead, he will walk downstairs and snoop around and-- there's a picture of him on the wall, smiling, with his 'wife' and two kids.

He sees a rotary dial on the phone and he picks up to call numbers he remembers from 2012. And then numbers he remembers from 1943. And then zero. And then hangs up and goes to rifle through anything he can find in the shoeboxes of the downstairs closet to tell him where he is and why he's there.

Have fun waking up to your new dad sifting through files all over the kitchen table. ]

[ Action, around town ]

[ He doesn't believe this for a second. But this isn't just any sort of thing; he's small again. Someone's trying to make him forget. So he walks around town, because the one thing he needs right now is to get out of town. ]

Excuse me. Do you know the way to the train station?