Dreaming...
Out of extreme boredom, Thrust is attempting to learn how to use a sword. It's not working very well, because the sword he has was made for normal mech hands and fingers with more than one joint in them and he keeps dropping it.
"You didn't think to get a custom-made weapon instead of that glowstick? I'm surprised."
"It's only a practice mod--" Thrust turns to see a pale figure standing behind him, arms folded. He lowers the sword, sheer amazement falling across his face. "What...what are you doing here? How?" If it were not for his mask, his jaw would have hit the floor.
The figure does not answer his question. It speaks with a smooth voice, oddly similar to Thrust's but slightly deeper. "You've done quite well for yourself, Thrust. Consort of a Monitor, whatever that is in this crazy place, and direct ties to both the Autobot and Decepticon high commands in more than one universe. It's not quite where you were before, but you're getting there." The figure looks over the chess board, the light sculpture, and Thrust himself with a critical optic.
Thrust stares almost longingly at the figure, trying to keep the moment from ending. "You died," he says finally.
"So did you."
"No, you died in the Autobot attack on Iacon. I remember." Five thousand, three hundred and eighty eons, to the day. It's not the sort of date a mech forgets.
"I'm rather aware of that. I was there, after all." Still the same dry sense of humor that Thrust recalled so fondly.
"I..." If he'd been asked yesterday, he could have made a list the size of Metroplex of all the things he wanted to say. Now his mind is whirling and he can't do anything but stare and stammer.
"Three questions," the figure says gently, "That's all you get. You know how these things work."
Thrust pauses for over a minute, struggling to pick out a bare few from the thousands of screaming thoughts he has. "Are you coming back, am I going to see you again?" he blurts out, instantly regretting wasting his first question on something so trivial.
The figure grins. "I've bargained my way into and out of a good number of places. The Allspark is no different. If I can do it once, I can do it again."
"What's it like?" Thrust takes another step towards the pale figure, even as he knows that there is nothing he can do to stop it from leaving.
"The Allspark? You'll find out, don't worry."
"Not too soon, I hope," Thrust says, forcing a chuckle. He falls silent, trying to articulate his final question.
The figure seems to know exactly what he's thinking. "You're the most devious, sneaky, backstabbing mech I've ever known. You clawed your way to the top of the Decepticons, fell down, and went right back to your old ways." An insubstantial hand pats Thrust's shoulder. "Of course I'm proud." He turns around and fades as he walks through the door.
*Thrust slowly awakens and sits up, staring off at the light sculpture illuminating his dark room and not quite sure what to do* Father?
"You didn't think to get a custom-made weapon instead of that glowstick? I'm surprised."
"It's only a practice mod--" Thrust turns to see a pale figure standing behind him, arms folded. He lowers the sword, sheer amazement falling across his face. "What...what are you doing here? How?" If it were not for his mask, his jaw would have hit the floor.
The figure does not answer his question. It speaks with a smooth voice, oddly similar to Thrust's but slightly deeper. "You've done quite well for yourself, Thrust. Consort of a Monitor, whatever that is in this crazy place, and direct ties to both the Autobot and Decepticon high commands in more than one universe. It's not quite where you were before, but you're getting there." The figure looks over the chess board, the light sculpture, and Thrust himself with a critical optic.
Thrust stares almost longingly at the figure, trying to keep the moment from ending. "You died," he says finally.
"So did you."
"No, you died in the Autobot attack on Iacon. I remember." Five thousand, three hundred and eighty eons, to the day. It's not the sort of date a mech forgets.
"I'm rather aware of that. I was there, after all." Still the same dry sense of humor that Thrust recalled so fondly.
"I..." If he'd been asked yesterday, he could have made a list the size of Metroplex of all the things he wanted to say. Now his mind is whirling and he can't do anything but stare and stammer.
"Three questions," the figure says gently, "That's all you get. You know how these things work."
Thrust pauses for over a minute, struggling to pick out a bare few from the thousands of screaming thoughts he has. "Are you coming back, am I going to see you again?" he blurts out, instantly regretting wasting his first question on something so trivial.
The figure grins. "I've bargained my way into and out of a good number of places. The Allspark is no different. If I can do it once, I can do it again."
"What's it like?" Thrust takes another step towards the pale figure, even as he knows that there is nothing he can do to stop it from leaving.
"The Allspark? You'll find out, don't worry."
"Not too soon, I hope," Thrust says, forcing a chuckle. He falls silent, trying to articulate his final question.
The figure seems to know exactly what he's thinking. "You're the most devious, sneaky, backstabbing mech I've ever known. You clawed your way to the top of the Decepticons, fell down, and went right back to your old ways." An insubstantial hand pats Thrust's shoulder. "Of course I'm proud." He turns around and fades as he walks through the door.
*Thrust slowly awakens and sits up, staring off at the light sculpture illuminating his dark room and not quite sure what to do* Father?