Summary: Your nightmares never make sense yet this one feels almost familiar? That's not quite the right word but it's in the right area. Additionally, the secret of your origins begins to spread as Drift tells someone about your heritage.
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As you’re kept close to his chassis, Drift silently rocks back and forth while occasionally tapping your shoulders twice. The room is otherwise quiet, except for your hiccups.
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It’s dark. You take a step and nearly slip on something that squelches, so you decide to crawl. You’re more accustomed to that now anyways. You distantly hear shuffling, the dragging of something upon the ground, and then a slow defeated thump as whatever was moving stopped.
How familiar. But there’s no scratching or quick panicked movements this time. Has the monster given up?
There’s a feeling deep in your gut that tells you not to follow the strange noises, but another part of you feels oddly compelled to see the creature again. So you crawl forward through the thick rotting smelling substance again and note that it feels as if the composition of said substance has changed. It feels much thicker and almost waxy now.
Not too far in front of you there sounds to be sniffling of some kind. Or is it just smelling? There's an occasional hiccup that deeply unnerves you.
You crawl closer and the man with a taught, skewered face becomes apparent to you again, although he’s laying flat on the ground now. You crawl closer and find it more difficult to do so as the waxy substance grows thicker and thicker. Are they stuck? You look to the ground of the amalgamation and find that it’s sitting. Or, at least it’s sitting the best way it can with a million different limbs. A couple legs stick out from the sides. Some are stuck in the substance.
You crawl closer and the taught man sees you, he raises his arms and you see his chest move that resembles breathing before he opens his mouth and quick, simultaneous yet unharmonised groans and cries emit from the creature all at once. It’s not violent, or even that loud. The noises could be compared to a child that’s choking on its own breath to stop crying. You haven’t moved from your spot. You look down to the man whose skin has morphed to adhere to new features as the bones that stick out of his face and realize you can’t see his eyes. You wonder if he can cry.
Some stupid sense of pity washes over you as you crawl closer. If the creature notices, it makes no movement or acknowledgement in your direction. Once a couple feet away, you’re able to actually stabilize your weight atop the waxy substance. It still smells putrid, but less of iron and more of ammonia. Strangest yet is that it almost smells sweet. Despite your disgust you dig at the sides of the creature where its limbs seem to tangle underneath the hardened substance.
First you claw at the substance to crack the surface open. Underneath it was warm and brought out the smell. The image of a rotten watermelon comes into your mind and you do your best to stop thinking about it. Forming your hands into a scoop, you ladle the substance out with your hands and, for the first time, truly see what you’ve been crawling in as you hold it close to your face.
The substance is a tan-orangish colour that looks almost white as the more solid components of it flakes. As you continue to scoop the substance out, you can clearly see that it doesn’t come in one colour. Some parts are a deep cold brown and others even more yellow. The substance doesn’t seem to be uniform, or at the very least it’s not all made from the same thing.
Your finger grazes something warm and solid and with a few more scoops you’re able to see what’s beneath the substance.
Metal. Lines of metal that seem to pulse in a quick two beat then rest pattern. You place your palm fully against the metal and the heat of it is almost uncomfortable.
You turn to the creature to see that the man’s head is now turned towards you. You wonder if he sees you. Now that you’re close enough to him it almost looks as if he’s been crushed, or maybe he fell from a tall height. The creature struggles underneath the weight of the substance but eventually the top begins to crack and hotter pools begin to spill to the surface. For some reason, to avoid the sudden slow moving flood you turn to anchor yourself to the collection of limbs, heads and torsos that seem to be stuck in it.
And it tries its best. The man with a tight face and broken bones holds your hand steady as you climb.
Emaciated and sickly arms brush out the wax that had gotten on your face and someone with a heavily bruised and flattened chest hoists you higher.
There’s an individual whose face you have a hard time looking at, yet the massive and symmetrical holes across their body are also hard to focus on. They don’t seem to take an insult to your cowardice as they simply guide you to turn around and hands from somewhere above you cover your eyes.
There’s additional hands that rub at your shoulders and one that holds your pinky specifically. That hand in particular feels quite small. There’s someone whispering to you and you think it’s nice things, but the organic clicks and sighs of your own tongue sound so alien to you now.
It’s cold, but the thought is much appreciated as this mass thronging with faces and arms tries to gently hold you. Even though you know it to be cold, you feel quite warm as something claws at your heart. Or does it claw at your spark?
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When you wake up you’re once again in a dark room, yet this time you know where you are. Vaguely. Drift was holding you close shortly before you slipped into sleep a recharge, which is evident as he’s still right beside you. It seems as if after you had gone into recharge Drift decided to join you and simply dragged you to a berth. You’re pretty sure Ratchet would chew him out for not keeping you in a bassinet, but it’s not like you can tattle on him.
It’s impossible not to find the situation daunting. The secret is out to an unknown number of bots, which leaves two circumstances that will now come into play. First, is that you can (hopefully) communicate easier to everyone. It should be much easier to now warn people and claim the gifts of prophecy if they realize you’re capable of a coherent thought. Second, is that common opinion on you will vary. A lot of suspicious behaviour has been ignored due to the fact that an infant is not capable of planning, once the information is out there will surely be hesitation on your past and future behaviour.
You sit up and look at Drift peacefully slumbering. He gets this information that you are a conglomerate creation of an organic mess and metal, pities you, and then falls into recharge beside you? Willingly? It’s strange behaviour to pity the unknown. Crawling closer to Drift's faceplates you blow a vent to metal covering his optics to see if they’ll flutter in response.
They do. It reminds you that despite your differences there are still so many traits that remain familiar and human to you. And it also means that this bastard is awake and pretending to be recharging. You pinch his nose between two tiny digits and laugh when a dim blue light engulfs the room as he opens his optics. The huff he makes sounds muffled and it helps improve your mood. You’ve successfully plugged a Samurai master’s nose. It probably shouldn’t be something you’re proud of, but it’s funny regardless.
Making no effort to brush you off in any way, Drift's voice sounds nasally and slightly higher than normal as his nose remains plugged. “How was your rest, little one?”
You make a shrugging motion and lie next to his helm after releasing his nose. It’s not as fun if he doesn’t care. However his question does stir something in you. Your dream felt uncomfortable yet also safe. There was something so familiar and simply right about wherever it is you keep dreaming of. There’s a part of you that wants to understand more of it, and a deeper part that feels appeased with the knowledge that you have now. What an odd feeling.
Raising one of his servos to trace the metal on the side of your helm, Drift once again closes his optics. “I hope you don’t mind but I called Ratchet to make an in-suite appointment. He knows it’s about you, but he doesn’t know anything about you yet.”
He opens one of his optics to stare at you. You wonder what sort of reaction he’s looking for.
“Chromedome and I know about the datapad and the experiments but that’s it. We decided that the less mechs who know about your history the better. At least until you’re old enough to be able to speak on your own behalf.”
That’s… surprisingly considerate. You wonder what was in the datapad to make Drift so confident that you aren’t some sort of spying device. Or to pity you instead of suspect you in general.
“I don’t know when he’ll be here, he said he was busy, but I was thinking that at a minimum he and Rodimus should know about your… uhm… history.”
Sounds reasonable. There are probably a couple other mechs that should be aware initially for security reasons. The datapads mentioned a captain, who you have no idea who they were but they probably know about you, and the artifact itself has not been found still. Based on the datapad logs, you are connected to the artifact and are draining its power and somehow Aquaheap combined the lingering power of the other subjects to amplify your own dwindling amount. It would be bad if someone wanted to use the artifact again, as you would likely have to be a part of the process. Speaking of, how did Aquaheap combine energy that was attached to other humans? The log's pointed to the fact that they all died after experimentation.
You begin to cross your arms over your chassis, you don’t know why, it simply feels right.
Is it possible to pull power from whatever the artifact was previously used on? The datapad said the other subjects were returned? What does ‘returned’ entail? How do you return a dead body? There’s a sudden tight suffocating feeling where you instinctively think the end of your esophagus lies, despite you not having one anymore. Would that be your spark?
How do you return a dead body? Where are the others? Are they in y-
There’s servos tapping your side and your vision becomes clear again. You didn’t even realise it was blurry. Once you do begin retaining visuals again, you see a red reflective light flashing on Drift’s armour. Are you sick again?
“-ey. Hey, Bitty. Little one? Are you there? Is everything okay?”
You look up to Drift to see him curled inwards towards you with a worried look covering his face. “I know that it might be scary but it will be good to at least tell those two. It will be better in case of any emergencies.”
One problem at a time. You take a deep vent in and try to slowly vent it out before sitting up. Laying down and stewing in your own misery is too tempting. Drift grabs one of your servo’s and rubs the small amount of metal on the back. He doesn’t say anything as he seems to either be thinking about something himself or is just giving you some space. You appreciate it either way.
Light floods the room as the door to the habsuite opens and Ratchet practically bursts through. He observes you sitting up and Drift seemingly just waking up from recharge. Drift doesn’t even acknowledge Ratchet yet his expression changes from worry to a grimace.
Ratchet walks over and scoops you up from the berth, "Unbelievable! You left them unattended and out of their bassinet while you recharged!?”
Finally turning around, Drift slowly gets up. He’s very expressional today as something sheepish is reflected in his optics. “I swear, I was functional the entire time.”
“You were simply resting your optics?”
“Yes! I … was connecting with them?”
“Their alarm just went off minutes ago and you were in recharge!”
“I wasn’t! I was awake! I swear! I could tell you the exact time it started and stopped!”
Beginning to turn and walk out of the room with you Ratchet huffs, “I’m sure you can.”
Before ratchet can leave, Drift calls out to him “In-suite appointment Ratchet, it’s important that it stays here please.”
You think you may be getting a bit better at reading fields since you’re pretty sure waves of fury are emanating from Ratchet as he spoke through clenched denta, “The alarm for their spark just went off, Drift. I need to go inspect it.”
Drift vents. He looks miserable. “I know. But I think I know what caused that too. It involves what I want to talk about.”
Ratchet closes the door, pulls out a chair from the nearby desk, sits in it, and pulls out a datapad all the while holding you securely under his chin. “You’ve got maybe 5 clicks to fill me in before I go check on Bitty’s disk.”
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Drift was succinct in his explanations. Yet it definitely took more than 5 minutes clicks. Ratchet stopped writing in his datapad once he started to understand the gravity of the situation and remained quiet as Drift spoke. Despite no outward changes in expressions or reactions, the changes in his grip were evident enough for you to feel anxious.
“So… what I’m gathering… is that the Bitle- Er. Uhm.” Ratchet turns to you, “Are you okay with Bitlet, Bitty… that sort of thing? We normally wait for proper designation- Names? It’s names isn’t it? Not designations. Anyways, we normally wait for proper names until a bot can name themselves.” Ratchet pauses before he turns to Drift, “Do they understand what I'm saying?”
Ratchet continues, “Okay. So. The ..Bitlet… was actually human, and thanks to some wackjob using an ancient artifact from Solus Prime, they forced their consciousness out of their frame-er, uhm -their body and into a frame the wackjob made.”
Drift quickly glances your way before continuing, “Mostly, yeah, you got it. Based on the datapad’s logs we believe that the artifact may have been malfunctioning. And.. we believe that the Bitlet actually rejected the frame that created and made this one with the materials.”
“Or the artifact did. The logs were vague.”
Ratchet gives Drift an unimpressed look.
“The datapad logs said that the age of a human was incompatible with the artifact. That the artifact would react to fact rather than a want, and the fact is that this human, our bitlet, was young and the artifact simply matched that.”
Interesting information. And kind of wrong too. Or maybe they were just interpreting Aquaheap’s findings wrong? Compared to a Cybertronian you are always going to be an infant in ages since by human definition they are walking artifacts, that much is true. However, your age wasn’t matched when your consciousness got transferred. There is a small level of doubt considering who you were before the experiments since you still don’t know how you got into this universe in the first place. Maybe this is purgatory and God is playing a trick on you. Maybe you were actually a baby and your previous memories only connected once you got experimented on? Or something like that? You don't have enough information to be sure of anything.
Ratchet shifts his hold to let you sit in his arms. It gives you enough room for you to lean back and look up at him. Simultaneously, it gives him the same opportunity to look at you. “I’m guessing that even if we found the artifact that there would be no way to return them to their body.”
Drift picks at something on one of his servos. Probably paint. “Yeah. Organic bodies… decompose quickly and it’s been far too long for anything to be done.”
“Then it doesn’t matter how old they were before. If they can’t go back, this is who they are now.” Slowly Ratchet traces the outlines of metal on your helm, just as Drift was doing earlier. “They’re still a sparkling despite how they were forged. They’re still going to grow, still learn about the universe, still learn from us, and still make choices that are stupid and smart. Just because they’ll remember their early cycles and maybe even prior events doesn’t mitigate the fact that they are going to have to go through life as a sparkling. This is their second start at life. Almost like being reforged- or reborn I guess.”
There’s a small smile on Drift's face, “That was quite poetic.”
When Ratchet glares Drift puts his servos up in surrender, “It was just a comment. Besides, I agree with you. You simply said it better than I could.”
The displeased expression never leaves Ratchet’s face as his servos drop from your helm to rub circles in your back. “My only concern on their background for now or in the future is how others will react. How many mechs know?”
“Just you, me, and Chromodome.”
“No he doesn’t.. Not yet anyways. I wanted to be selectful of who should know and sometimes when you tell Rodimus something you have to make sure that he’s.. Uh…”
“Yeah. And he’s currently pretty jovial with Magnus in Hedonia. I don’t know how he’ll take this information.”
We’re already at that point in the comics? There's a party down in Hednoia? How long did you recharge for? Long enough for the ship to reach another planet and send a small shuttle full of bots on a little trip? You don’t have much longer until the days of action then. Luckily, it should be easier to communicate now which should make it painless to get the message across in time. You look around the room for something useful while the two of them continue talking.
“He’s the Captain. He can take it. Besides, it might be a perfect time to tell him then. There’s a good amount of bots that went down to Hedonia which can give the two of you plenty of time for a private conversation.”
Squirming in Ratchet’s hold you try to dive for his datapad, writing is still hard but that doesn’t mean you can’t open the whiteboard function! Surely they’ll understand your drawings now. Right? Once Ratchet realizes what you’re trying to get he loudly scoffs, yet still leans over to grab the datapad for you, “Drift. I thought I made an announcement to limit their screen time! You and the others are getting them addicted!”
You open a blank page and laugh as Drift tries to defend himself. You probably should lay off the datapads for a little while once everything calms down anyways. You’ve been planning and preparing for future events but haven’t really looked at the now. Not only do you need to stay vigilant for any changes occurring in the comics, but it would also just be nice to get closer to the mech’s taking care of you. But currently, you need to warn the others so that good things remain in the future. Drift mentioned that he was going to talk to Rodimus, so maybe you can send a message.
“-esides I do try to give them other stimulation! They’re just great with technology, you can even ask Perceptor about that!”
You start with a couple doors. It’s quite hard to draw a door, but you continue to do so anyway.
Ratchet simply groans and lets his helm fall backwards to look up at the ceiling. Drift, for some reason, takes this as an action of defeat and continues to defend himself. “Besides I’m sure they’ll come out as quite the artist in a couple quartex’s! Look! What are they drawing now?”
Once a couple doors were in the picture, you begin drawing Overlord behind the middle one. To make the door holding him look stronger you thickened the outline of his door and scribbled the other ones out to make them look weak. You won't let the improved security be forgotten this time!
Full of poise and confidence Drift walks over to observe the datapad while Ratchet returns his helm to a normal position. “Drift. They’re drawing squares, squiggles, and an angry face.”
“Hey! Don’t doubt their abilities! That’s clearly a monster!”
A monster is a bit closer but the result is still disappointing. You begin to draw more doors, and even point at them. Drift simply laughs and nods his helm, “Yes Bitty, squares! I see them!”
Why does nothing go your way?
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Thanks for reading! Sorry for the skipped week, I got busy… Anyways, I hope you liked this one because I found my new favourite word! Throng! It means a densely packed crowd or for something to be jam packed!
theartofmadeline
s-u-f-j-a-n-s-t-e-v-e-n-s
areudirty
germansingergirl
gummygunk
