Reborn as a bitlet?
Part 7! (edited) wowzas
Part 6
Summary: You get a little bug and are mercilessly reminded that you forgot something.
Wordcount: 3100
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Rung leans over to retrieve the datapad from the cabinet, “Earth.”
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Rung filters through the thin line up of datapads and for a moment, he is confused. Then he’s dumbfounded. Drift leans over to better see into the file cabinet, “Everything alright?”
Rung filters through the array of datapads once again before meeting Drift's face. “…The datapad is missing.”
“Are you sure you didn’t misplace it?” Crouching down to hunch beside the cabinet, Drift helps himself to rooting through the cabinet. Of course, there’s nothing that Rung hasn’t already sifted through.
Getting up from his chair, Rung takes a quick look around all the surfaces of his office, “No, I’ll make sure to look around, but I was certain that I left it here. I haven’t touched it since the sparkling knocked it over.”
“And it’s definitely not any of these?”
Rung starts to open and sift through any storage within the office, “No, a crack split across the screen after it fell. It’s not there.”
Drift finishes inspecting the cabinet, “I’ll help you look around. It has to be here somewhere.” The two of them open every drawer possible, any place it could have fallen, and in their minds, anywhere it could be. Spaces behind any chair, under every desk, and each cabinet has been opened and reorganized to ensure the blasted datapad wasn’t stacked under something. Every surface of Rung’s office has been scanned, and then scanned again. (The two of them never think to check the space between Rung’s desk and the wall since the space is so thin, it would’ve had to have been really wedged in if it were there. It would have never accidentally fallen there.) Looking around the office to find every drawer open and still no datapad, Rung sighs and Drift drags a servo down his faceplates.
Starting with the file cabinet, Rung begins to close all of the drawers. “Well… I honestly don’t know what happened to it.”
Feeling a little useless watching Rung clean up, Drift starts closing drawers on the other side of the room. “Do you remember the last time you had it?”
“I believe it was when the sparkling hit it out of my servos. Which was about.. Two cycles ago? Yeah, I’m pretty sure it was two cycles ago.”
After closing the drawer full of animal toys, (how does Rung have so many?) Drift turns around towards Rung. “They hit the datapad? I thought they knocked it over?”
Rung huffs and momentarily leans against the adjacent wall, “Yes they hit it, which is weird. They normally love datapads, It was the first time I’d ever seen them act out. They’re normally quite even-tempered.” With only a few drawers remaining, Drift walks back to the entrance of the room and lets Rung close the last few. “That’s interesting, I was under the same impression.”
Looking around the office to find it the same as when he entered, Drift raises a servo goodbye and tries to seem unbothered by the situation. “Well, keep a look out for it in case we missed it I suppose. Not much to do until we find it.”
“Do you think someone stole it?”
“…It’s not impossible that it was out and for some reason someone thought it was theirs. I’ll ask around, but if you can’t find it even after that then I think it’s safe to assume it might have been stolen.”
“But who would want that information enough to steal the datapad? It’s just information about the sparkling, right?”
After a beat too long of silence Rung turns to look at Drift quietly standing at the doorway with furrowed eyebrows but an otherwise blank expression. “The datapad’s about the sparkling, right?"
“…We don’t know for sure what’s on there. My guess would be that maybe someone is trying to hide what’s on it?” Drift vents and scratches his helm, not sure how much he should disclose. “I do recall a mech desperately trying to get to the area where the sparkling was when we first found them. Big mech, he seemed to be part of security. He’s in the brig now. We’ve tried asking him questions but it wouldn't hurt to roll back security footage to see if anyone else has talked to him.”
“What’s his designation?”
“It’s …Havoc I’m pretty sure.”
“Hm. I don’t think I’ve heard of him before.”
“He’s not a very popular mech apparently. The other bots abroad apparently rarely saw him.”
Once again, Drift throws up a servo to say goodbye, but actually goes through the doors this time. Further down the hallway, he raises a digit up to an audial to make a call, “Chromedome, do you have some time to chat? It’s important, meet me at Brainstorm’s lab.”
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There’s an itch that Rung can’t quite reach.
Many good things take time, and it takes much time and error before someone will open up to another. To a species where most only know war, hardship and betrayal, this process takes even longer. Why dwell on what cannot be changed? Why did my friends die? Why was I forced to see that? Why did no one come for me?
Rung knows that he’s near a breakthrough with Fort Max. Paralysed, lobotomised, left for dead, and then dumped in the hellsite medical facility that was Delphi. The mech had a lot to unpack and he was doing surprisingly good if not for one main factor.
He was still afraid of someone something, and it wouldn’t let him talk.
Sitting across but not facing Fort Max who is laying down, Rung fidgets and inspects one of his many ship models. “You were in charge when G9 was attacked?”
“…Yes.”
“What happened next?”
“You know what happens next. Everyone knows. Even Tailgate knows and someone had to draw him a picture of Optimus Prime the other cycle.”
“I want to hear it from you. Please. What happened? What do you remember?”
For a second time that day, there’s a silence that goes on for too long as Fort Max takes a long time to think over his answer. “I remember… I remember…”
Rung puts down the model, yet still gives Fort Max enough room to feel comfortable.
“… I remember nothing at all.”
Ah, unfortunate. Today’s not the day. There’s a part of Rung that wants to push. Fort Max’s action in deafening Delphi certainly helped the crew, but the ruthlessness that he displayed was definitely concerning. However, so long as Fort Max continues to their sessions they can establish a benchmark to bring him back to in case anything ever goes wrong.
As Rung helps Fort Max rise from the slab, there’s a shadow over his faceplates and avoidance in his optics. Fort Max leaves the office and there’s still a part of Rung that’s screaming at him to find that itch before something does happen.
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You were warm. Uncomfortably warm.
There’s an ache behind your optics, a sore horrible cough and a level of exhaustion that seems to settle deep within your frame. You don’t even know if you have enough strength to sit up. Rung’s habsuite is engulfed in darkness however you notice an occasional red flash illuminating the ceiling right above you.
Squirming and rolling over in your crib to find a position that will cool you off, the red flash follows whatever direction you’re looking at. Is it coming from you?
The room is suddenly engulfed in white light from the hallway as Rung bolts up when a mech intrudes into the space and beelines right towards you. You can’t seem to muster up enough energy to care as you’re turned onto your back and the mech takes off the black disk that was placed on your chassis when you first arrived on the lost light. The disk itself was blinking red. Ah. That must’ve been the flashing red following you.
Rung rushes to turn on the lights to the habsuite, “Ratchet?! What’s wrong? Is something wrong with the sparkling?”
Why was that disk there again? It was placed there in your opposition to showing your spark. Right? It’s hard to think that far back as the ache behind your optics only grows as the room gets lighter and it becomes really hard to think. Ratchet picks you up and the sudden weightlessness makes you feel woozy and you’re suddenly very aware of a growing uncomfortable pit in your tanks.
Ratchet holds you close with urgency in his hold and spins around to Rung, “The disk we placed on their chassis was sending some concerning data.”
You really wish that Ratchet didn’t spin you as well, the feeling grows and you heave out a heavy vent. Rung walks towards the two of you and places his servos at the top of your faceplates, “They’re warm, Ratchet they’re never warm! Is something wrong?”
As Rung continues to cradle and rub your helm, the sudden temperature change does nothing to soothe you as you begin to squirm, hoping to avoid the two bots. “Well, they look worse than what the data was showing. I’ll run some tests but I think they-”
The room begins to spin and you take a big uncomfortable vent in as your chassis splutters and you violently vomit into Rung’s servos.
“… I think they’re sick.”
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It’s unknown how you picked up the bug, but you are definitely sick. The only good thing that came from your sudden and very scary visit to the medbay is confirmation that your spark was perfectly fine. Ratchet doesn’t even believe that you’ve caught anything, but instead thinks that your sickness is due to overexertion or stress with a lack of developed fans to cool you down.
Both are very possible as you have very much overexerted the abilities of your tiny frame, and have been very stressed about life in general lately. After many blaring tests in your face (the medics suddenly became a lot less fun and much more professional,) you were sent to close observation at bedrest, and plenty of fluids.
You wonder if getting sick as a sparkling is as dangerous as a baby falling ill. It would make sense why everyone at the medbay became so serious. However after a couple hours later and many devices being physically linked to you, it was apparently safe to be released back into Rung’s care.
It’s not that different from a regular cold. Sore optics, sore head, achy joints, lethargic in everything, and it’s a tad harder to breathe. Wait, you’re breathing? It’s all pretty similar except you have truly no autonomy as a mother hen and her clients coo over you. There’s at least four additional devices laid around your crib (one small blinking inside, three clunky ones outside) all with wires connecting back to the disk on your chassis. Not like you really wanted to move anyways.
Throughout the day Rung has been encouraging the mechs he sees to help feed you, or hold you so he can check something. You’re faintly sure that he’s using you as an emotional anchor of some kind, as holding and watching out for a sparkling can give a sense of responsibility. Additionally, with the other bot helping, it gives Rung a moment to step back and observe both parties in front of him.
Sneaky.
As Rung’s prior appointment left, there was only a small window of time until Whirl walked through the door. After a few minutes of idle chit chat, Rung had asked Whirl to hold you within his arms while Rung checked the wires around the disk. Much easier said than done.
“Absolutely not.”
The two times you’ve met Whirl he was quite playful, and you’re a little surprised he’s so prickly now since you assumed he would have fun messing with or entertaining you. However, it is a therapy session, he’s probably not too partial that Rung has deviated from what he was expecting. Thinking back, you’re pretty sure this is the first time you’ve sat an entire day with Rung and any of his clients. Normally he leaves you to someone else's care or you’re just with him momentarily. There is a large part of you that wonders why he brought you today instead of leaving you with the medics.
“Why not?”
Whirl points one of his claws at you in your bassinet, “They’re sick.”
“It’s not contagious.”
“They might purge their tanks on me.”
“That is a possibility. If it makes you more comfortable I could grab some cloths?"
Whirl is surprisingly quiet as his digits rap against the counter,“…I’m sure my arms wouldn’t be that comfortable.”
Leaning against said counter, Rung begins to inspect the devices outside your bassinet. “As far as I can tell, so long as you don’t grip them, they’re quite content with most bots. Just try. If they squirm we can put them back, but it’s a lot easier to do an overall check if someone else is holding them.”
“Uh-huh, and how many mechs have you tricked into this?”
Each device is akin to a black cube with multiple buttons and one long wire. After inspecting each one, Rung presses a button and releases them from the wires. “I’ve asked about four. Ratchet said that if they were going to be released he needed a constant stream of data surrounding their condition. I’m simply adhering to a medic’s request.”
“And I have to help?”
“No, I just thought I’d ask. You don’t have to do anything”
There’s silence throughout the office as Rung simply waits.
“…Fine! Give me the sparkling.”
Rung grabs the device within your bassinet and gives it to you to hold, which you do after gnawing on the wires (gotta keep that baby appearance up). Then, you’re very gently being lifted up from your warm bassinet into Rung’s loose cradle. Whirl holds his servos out, and then quickly places them against himself, then hesitantly holds his servos out again.
You can feel a small short rattle from Rung's chassis which might have been a laugh. “Place your arms as if you were already holding them and we can adjust from there.”
Surprisingly, Whirl wordlessly places his arms against himself as asked, and you're gently placed in the nook of his elbow. The circular attachments from his forearms cover you almost entirely in a way that reminds you of a knight's shield.
“They were gnawing on the wires so I think they might be hungry. It’ll take me a minute to make something for them.”
Whirl’s hold isn’t actually so bad. It helps that he’s probably not overthinking about anything. Whirl taps your forehead, derma, cheeks, as well as anywhere else you let him. “Couldn’t you have done that while they were in their ugly crib thingy?”
As Rung reaches into an opened drawer and pulls out materials, there’s the familiar sound of a spoon clinking against glass to mix supplements. “Yes, and I would have, I simply didn’t realize it until I was taking them out.”
Whirl uncharacteristically huffs a short vent while keeping his optic on you before whispering, “Some care-taker he is huh bitty? Couldn’t even tell you were starving.” You grab the servo that had been poking you and let out a static squeal in triumph. Whirl’s optic shines a small bit brighter.
There’s more clinking as Rung puts something down, and picks something else up which produces a different, lighter clinking. Whirl drags the clawed servo still trapped in your little digits from side to side and silently watches you turn with it, still tightly gripping onto the servo.
The light clinking stops and another much louder noise from the hallway replaces it. Whirl looks up and towards the door as several loud thuds approach the office. With surprising urgency, he places you back in your bassinet as the footsteps reach the door, “Did you double book me Rung?”
When the doors open, there's a surge of horror when you realize you truly have made no changes to this timeline yet. There’s no one who can understand you, none of your actions or plans have helped, and any seeds you have planted will take far too long to help you now. Stupidly sitting in your stupid bassinet you’re frozen. Rung and Whirl are right there and all you need to do is cry or talk. Reach out to them. To do something.
You hear a clink of a spoon falling on the other side of the room as Rung approaches the mech standing in the doorway. “Fort Max? Is.. Is everything alright? The sparkling is here so if you ne-”
With one whip of his arm, Rung is flung to the side of the office where he was mixing your supplements and there's a hollow thud as he hits the wall. Fort Max slams his other servo on the controls of the door, forcing them closed. Quickly, Whirl practically pounces on Fort Max as his weapon comes to light and he widely shoots into the office in an attempt to wrangle Whirl off.
For some reason breathing hurts, as you can feel your chassis rapidly moving up and down with no control. There’s a lump in your throat and you feel as heavy as cement and you don’t think it’s the sickness weighing you down. There’s a brewing guilt to your already building horror as you are forced to recognize how truly useless and single-minded you’ve been. As chaos ensues and Rung scrambles to reach your bassinet you’re forced to come face to face with the fact that you’ve forgotten about a pivotal event.
Fort Max manages to throw Whirl off of him and slams his leg on his chassis before aiming his gun at the two of you. Whirl continues to squirm underneath him until Fort Max lifts his leg a short amount and slams it into Whirl resulting in a loud bang that echoes throughout the office and Whirl stills.
The guilt and paralysation grows even more and there’s something wet falling down your cheeks. You cannot believe you forgot about the events around Rung. The mech who has been taking care and watching out for you.
Rung slows, and puts his servos in a surrendered position above and beside his helm, “I don’t know what happened, but whatever it is doesn’t include the sparkling. Just let me put them in the hallway. Someone else can pick them up.”
You look to the window as Rung backs up to his chair, where in no time at all, his helm is going to be shot and blasted into smithereens.
"Fort Ma-"
"We're going to talk."
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Hello! Sorry for the whiplash in chapter length, but I figured it was either stay to schedule or get carried away again. Sorry if there's any spelling or grammatical errors, I'm house sitting and forgot my glasses.
Thank you for reading :)
Edit: This was re-uploaded after I realized a lot of people probably don't have access or have simply never got around to the MTMTE comics, so I placed a short paragraph to hopefully put in some context. But if you have any questions, ask away and I'll try to answer without spoilers.
Part 8
